


Please, Save Me

by Winterblume



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 295,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterblume/pseuds/Winterblume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Tomione. No time travel no time turners. - 'Are you not scared of him? Tom Riddle has got a rather peculiar reputation. But I'm sure it's all stupid talk. He's Head Boy after all.' - 'What kind of a reputation' - 'Er… he's… well, he seems kinda dark.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's note: Before you read I want to announce that this story is AU and I also mucked up the whole timeline from the canon books. So don't be surprised when you meet people who, in canon, never should have been alive at the same time period. In case you are wondering, that's just me messing around with the books. What I do try, though, is to keep everyone in character as we know them from the books. I don't know if I'll succeed but I'll try ;)  
> For all those Draco/Hermione shippers out there: Be warned, while I do understand that this ship is kinda hot, I myself don't like it very much. So while Draco Malfoy will play a more or less important role in this story, there will never be anything between Hermione and him. In fact, he's going to be a rather unlikable character and you shouldn't wait for him to change.  
> As for updates: This story is actually my little refuge whenever I'm hit with a writer's block on my other story. So, I cannot guarantee regular updates.  
> Of course reviews are very much appreciated. I do look forward to read any input from you. Love it, hate it, feel the need to yell at me: just hit the review button and tell me.

"Hermione!"

A woman stood in the front door of a house and called out to the group of children playing on the street. One of the children, a girl with curly long hair, turned her head and waved at the woman.

"Come in. It's getting late," the woman said, a smile on her face.

The small girl said good-bye to her friends and ran over to her mother. The woman slung an arm around the girl's shoulders and led her in.

"Had fun?" she asked good naturedly.

The girl nodded enthusiastically which made the woman beam down at her.

"So, you are not missing school anymore?" the woman inquired playfully.

"I still do," the girl quickly avowed, frowning up at her mother. "How long till it starts again?"

The woman laughed softly at that and ran an affectionate hand over the girl's head. "Three weeks."

"That long?" the girl asked in indignation.

"Yes," the woman laughed. "But now come, let's eat. Your father cooked."

The girl skipped into the living room and sat down at the table. The woman followed behind at a more sedate pace.

"Hermione, there you are."

A man with the same brown hair colour as the girl carried a dish with mashed potatoes and put it down on the table.

"Thought you've gone lost," the man grinned at the girl. "Then I would've been able to eat the whole dessert all by myself."

"Ha," the girl grinned right back. "No, I wanna dessert, too."

The woman rolled her eyes at their antics though the smile still was on her face. Then she reached for a bowl with peas.

†

"'m not tired yet," the girl mumbled although her eyes had been closed for the last ten minutes.

"I think it's bed time," the woman told her daughter.

The girl just curled tighter around the pillow, forced her eyes open and looked at the TV.

"No, I wanna see the ending."

The man ran a hand affectionately through her curly hair. "I'll tell you everything about it tomorrow. Deal?"

"'k," the little girl smiled up at him sleepily. "But don't forget."

He leaned down to her and whispered in her ear, "I wouldn't dream of."

The girl giggled. Then she tiredly got up from the sofa.

"Night, Dad," she said.

"Good night, Hermione." The man smiled at her.

The girl let her mother lead her out of the sitting room and up the stairs. She was already half asleep as she changed into her pyjamas and wanted to lie down in her bed. The woman stood in the doorway and shook her head at her daughter.

"Never forget to brush your teeth," she reminded the girl.

The curly haired girl sighed and shuffled over to the bathroom. By the time she got back to her room she was utterly knackered. The woman watched her daughter as she fell into her bed. She stepped over and smiled down at the child.

"Sleep well," the woman whispered.

The girl didn't open her eyes but still smiled. "Good night, Mo-"

She was interrupted by a loud clatter coming from downstairs. The girl's eyes shot open and stared at her mother.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I don't know," the woman answered uneasily. "Don't worry. Probably just Dad being clumsy again. I'll go and che-"

The woman was interrupted as they heard a voice coming from downstairs. It was her husband who seemed to yell at someone,

"What are you doing here?"

"Shut up, Muggle," a sharp male voice hissed.

The girl sat up in her bed, now fear in her eyes.

"Mom?" she whispered fearfully.

Her eyes were wide as saucers as she hastily grabbed the hand of her mother. The woman pressed the hand of her daughter as she nervously stared over to the door leading out of the child's room. The door wasn't closed but she still nothing could be seen as the lights in the hallway was switched off. Without a warning the darkness was suddenly interrupted by an eerie green light creeping up the stairs. The green shine disappeared again, leaving nothing behind. The girl pressed herself tightly against her mother, now trembling with fear.

It was deathly quiet and the woman hugged her daughter close as she desperately tried to hear something from downstairs. She flinched in alarm as suddenly the wooden steps of the stairs creaked loudly as someone climbed them. By the sound of it that person obviously wore heavy boots. The woman clutched the little girl even tighter against herself. By now the person had reached to first floor and walked along the corridor towards the girl's room.

The girl whimpered softly as the door to her room was flung open violently so that it banged against the wall. A man stepped into the room. Clad in a heavy black cloak, he made a fearsome impression. His skin was pale, his hair dark and horribly mussed up. In his hand he held a strange wooden stick. There was a cruel smirk on his face as he scanned the woman and the child on the bed. He slightly turned his head and yelled,

"I found 'em, McNair."

Being shaken out of her stupor by the man's voice, the woman jumped up from the bed. The girl remained huddled on the mattress, trembling in fear.

"Stay away from us!" the woman yelled at the man, her voice shaking. "I'll call the police!"

The dark-cloaked man just raised his eyebrows mockingly at her. "Calling the 'please'?" He barked out a harsh laugh. "Whatever gets you off, Muggle."

He pointed the wooden stick at the woman, a mad glint in his eyes, and took a menacing step towards her. The woman stiffened and stepped in front of her daughter, shielding her from the man.

"Leave!" she hissed at the man.

The sick smirk on the man's face widened and he snickered evilly, "No can do." He tilted his head to one side and said wickedly, "I'm here for ya daughter, see."

The child on the bed sniffed softly and the woman's eyes widened in horror.

"Stay away from her!"

Suddenly a new voice cut in. "What the fuck are you doing?" that voice asked lazily.

Another man entered the room. Clad in the same strange cloak he also held a wooden stick in his hand. His long blond hair was pulled back in a tail and his bored eyes wandered slowly over the room, taking in the scene. He turned to his partner and said languidly,

"Stop playing around. I wanna finish this up fast. Contrast to you, I have a life."

The dark-haired man just smirked at him and jeered, "If sitting in pubs and getting drunk is suddenly considered a life…"

The other man just shrugged his shoulders. "I  _have_  to meet the ladies somewhere ...before they end up in my bed."

"You wish," the dark-haired laughed dirtily. Then he gestured at the woman and said carelessly, "But if you wanna cut this short. Whatever. Be my guest."

The woman shrank away from the two men and towards her daughter, desperate to protect the child.

"Please," she begged them. "If you want money. I have money."

"Don't talk to me, dirty Muggle!" the blond man yelled at her aggressively, making the woman flinch in panic.

He sneered at her fear. Then he raised his wooden stick and pointed it at her. Mocking sneer still in place, he hissed,

"Avada Kedavra."

A ghostly green light erupted from the wooden stick and sped towards the woman. Fear mingled with confusion was on the woman's face as the green light impacted with her chest. Her eyes widened, a small gasp left her mouth, then she sagged down to the floor. Her eyes still open but now unseeing, she remained to lie lifelessly on the ground.

Tears ran down the bushy-haired girl's cheeks. Her small body shook uncontrollably as she slid from the bed and huddled beside her mother's body. Her fingers desperately curled around her mother's blue shirt and she sobbed.

"Mom? Mommy?"

There was a vile smirk on the blond man's face as he lowered his stick. He snickered in cruel amusement as he eyed the crying girl on the floor.

"You are no fun at all, you know that?" the other man told him, totally unaffected by the girl's sobs.

He sighed dramatically then he walked over to the child. Without paying any attention to the dead woman he bent down and brutally grabbed the girl by her upper arm. The girl cried out in pain but the man didn't loosen his grip. Instead he wrenched at her mercilessly as he hissed,

"Get up, you dirty Mudblood!"

.

.

.

.

**Seven Years Later…**

She was in paradise. In heaven. Even if she tried, she wouldn't know how this situation could be improved in any way. Her eyes were closed and she sighed as she felt his soft lips on her own. One arm snaked around her waist, he pressed her against his chest while his other hand gently ran through her hair. She felt him nibbling cautiously at her lower lip and a jolt of pleasure shot through her whole body. His hand left her hair and fondled the back of her neck before it skimmed down her back, leaving her in goosebumbs. She raised her arms and wrapped them around him so she could huddle closer against him. His tongue was hesitantly tracing over the seam of her mouth, timidly asking for permission to deepen this kiss. The fluttery feeling in her stomach intensified a thousandfold as she parted her lips slowly. His tongue slipped into her mouth and cautiously rubbed against her own. Eagerly she responded to his shy caress and soon their tongues were busy dancing together. She was sure if he hadn't still held her, she would have floated off the ground.

It must have been only a second or an eternity until he ended their kiss. She sighed contently as she leaned her head against his chest and felt both his arms securely wrapped around her. She never wanted him to let her go. She felt so protected in his arms. As she raised her face at him, she found him smiling down at her affectionately. His silky dark hair fell lightly into his eyes. She loved his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of blue she had ever seen. His high cheek bones and his pale skin gave him an aristocratic look while his strong jaw line emphasized his masculinity. He was dizzyingly handsome.

A happy smile on her face she told him, "I'm really glad you dropped by, Tom."

As he heard that a faint hint of colour appeared on his cheeks. Slowly a charming smile took form on his face.

"I like making you happy, Amy," he mumbled softly.

Then he let go of her and Amy was left behind with a strong feeling of loss. Tom still looked at her, the blush not leaving his face, while he smiled dreamily. Her heart skipped a beat as she gazed back at him.

"Oh, yes, before I forget it," she then said. "Do you remember that book you talked about?"

The glassy look was still in Tom's eyes as he stared at her and he needed a moment to process her question. Then he furrowed his brow and asked confused,

"What book?"

She giggled softly as she noticed how his eyes had wandered back to her lips while a longing sheen appeared in his eyes. Clearly he was not really following this conversation.

"The Noble Founders of Hogwarts," she replied smiling at him.

His gaze only reluctantly left her lips and wandered up to her eyes. Amy could see his face lighting up as he looked deeply into her eyes. Had he even taken in anything she said? She doubted it and giggled softly. He seemed to shake himself out of it.

"Ah yes," Tom said, smiling at her charmingly. "I totally forgot. What about the book?"

She felt like drowning in his blue eyes but she tried to stay focused. At least one of them should, she thought amused.

"I found it."

His eyes widened with admiration as he looked at her. "You really did? That's incredible."

Amy blushed as she heard his praise. "No, it wasn't that difficult," she said timidly. "I asked my dad. You might not know but he's working as a librarian in the Ministry's archive and can get his hands on the rarest of books."

Tom nodded in understanding, still looking at her in adulation. Could she even see a little bit of desire there in his blue eyes? she wondered excited.

"Wait, I'll get it for you," she said, throwing him a seductive look that made his soft eyes widen in surprise.

Smiling slightly she stepped over to her trunk, opened it and retrieved a heavy tome. The book was bound in dark leather and its pages were gilded. Imprinted in the leather of its cover was the word 'Conditoribus' in large golden letters. Carrying the book, she went back to him.

"Here," Amy said, offering him the book.

Tom looked at her, surprise in his blue eyes. "W… what?"

Lovingly, she smiled up at him. "I want you to have it."

He still hadn't accepted the book from her. Now he shook his head slightly and stuttered,

"No… I can't… can 't… that's too much. You should keep it."

"Tom, it's okay," she gently tried to coax him into taking it. "I know how much you like books. And I would just fall asleep if I tried reading it. So, just take it."

His blue eyes flickered from the book in her hands to her eyes. He looked at her with an endearing shyness on his face. She smiled at him encouragingly.

"It's really okay," she assured,

He gulped nervously as his eyes insecurely wandered back to the book.

"O- okay," he mumbled shakily. Then he smiled at her cautiously. "But only because you're forcing me to."

"Sure, Tom," she giggled.

She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips. As she released him again she was exhilarated to find the glassy look back in his eyes. She winked at him, which made an adorable blush blossoming on his cheeks, then she handed him the book.

"Thank you, Amy," he whispered in a shaky voice as he beamed down at the book.

"Don't mention it," she said.

Tom threw her a smile which sent pleasant shivers up and down her spine. Then he bent down to her and kissed her chastely on the cheek. As he straightened up again he cautiously looked at the door of her dorm. Then he looked back down at her and said embarrassed,

"I'll better go now, before your friends catch us."

Amy didn't want him to go but she still nodded at him. "Okay," she whispered sadly.

Sensing her reluctance to let him go, Tom smiled reassuringly down at her. Then he raised a hand and cupped her cheek before he once again placed his lips over hers. He kissed her tenderly. Amy's hand wandered up his chest, skimmed over his golden Head Boy badge, until it came to rest lying on his shoulder.

"Now I really have to go," he said after he released her lips again.

Amy watched, still entranced by his kiss, as he walked over to the door. He threw her one last smile before he slipped out of her dorm. As he had left she turned on the spot and, happy smile still in place, fell down on her bed.

The affectionate smile still ghosted around his mouth as Riddle soundlessly closed the door behind him. He stood in a dark abandoned hallway with stairs at its end, leading down to the Ravenclaw common room. Riddle's gaze wandered to the heavy book in his hands. As he stared down at its cover the lovestruck expression he had presented to the girl easily melted from his face as if it never had been more than a hollow mask. His blue eyes grew cold and suddenly an odd red gleam started to glow in them. A malicious smirk slowly twisted up the corners of his mouth as he greedily stared at the book.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The next morning, Riddle entered the Great Hall and stalked over to the Slytherin table. Small smirk curling up his mouth, he didn't even once look over to the Ravenclaw table. As he passed the Slytherins already sitting at the table many were throwing him admiring glances. Unmoved Riddle wandered towards his seat, never returning any of the reverentially whispered greetings.

Right at the middle of Slytherin table lounged a group of seven-years. Exuding the air of exclusiveness, it seemed an invisible wall separated them from the rest of the Slytherins. The members of this group received many envious glances from the other Slytherins who desperately wished to be a part of them. Riddle suppressed a disdainful snicker. They were all so pathetic. As if any of this held any real importance. A bunch of little schoolchildren, all of them.

Riddle kept the condescending sneer off his face as he stepped over to that 'exclusive' group. A seat in their midst was unoccupied, seemingly reserved for someone. Riddle elegantly slipped into that seat.

"Riddle," a platinum blond boy said in greeting.

Riddle inclined his head, not really wanting to be engaged in any conversation. A fat smirk appeared on the blond's face as he inquired,

"How is Belby?"

Riddle arched an uninterested eyebrow and commented coldly,

"Who's Belby?"

A burly boy sitting beside the blond looked up from his plate of scrambled eggs and scanned Riddle with his beady eyes.

"But isn't Amy Belby your girlfriend?" he asked stupidly.

Riddle imperiously stared at the burly boy for a moment before he said in a frosty voice,

"No."

The nasty smirk on the blond's face widened and the only girl in the round smiled insanely as she heard those news.

"Of course Amy's not, Goyle!" the girl said triumphantly to the burly boy.

Then she regarded Riddle through her heavy lidded eyes. Flicking her black curly hair out of her face, she said arrogantly,

"It was about time you stopped playing around with the mousy girl."

Riddle merely observed her through his expressionless blue eyes.

"Bellatrix," he said in his smooth voice. "I really don't care what Belby looks like. In the end, she's proven herself to be very useful."

Bellatrix pouted her lips and sulked. "I can be useful, too. Just you wait."

A barely visible smirk ghosted around Riddle's mouth. "I'm sure you can," he flirted silkily.

Bellatrix' dark eyes lit up as she heard that. Her gaze full of admiration, she scanned Riddle with longing.

"So I presume you got from Belby what you wanted then?" the blond boy asked nonchalantly.

Riddle's icy blue eyes wandered from Bellatrix to the blond.

"Whatever makes you think I wanted something from her, Draco?" he asked innocently, sinister amusement betraying his tone.

A boy with black hair who sat at Riddle's right, scanned the other through cold eyes. He leaned a bit forward on his seat before he said in a collected voice,

"Because Bella is right. Belby's a boring Ravenclaw and she doesn't even look good. So either you've suddenly changed your taste in women, Tom, or you wanted something from her."

A nasty smirk curled up Riddle's mouth as he heard it.

"Well, Antonin," he replied softly. "It seems I am an open book to you."

Antonin snickered darkly as he heard that. "Far from it. Very far, Tom. After all these years, I have to admit, you are still a mystery to us all."

Riddle snickered softly. Antonin took a sip from his cup of coffee before he asked casually,

"By the way. Are you going to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas?"

Before Riddle could reply, Bellatrix, crazy smile in place, ran a possessive hand over Riddle's arm.

"No," she bragged, turned to Antonin. "He's going to visit Malfoy manor. Draco invited him."

Riddle coolly waved her hand away from him, making the girl pout once again.

"Malfoy?" Antonin asked with raised eyebrows. His gaze shortly wandered to Draco. Then he said, sweet poison accompanying his words,

"Why, Tom, if you are that desperate, you should have said something. I would have gladly invited you."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the other. Then he said in a composed voice, "Last minute invitations are never a sign of refined manners, Dolohov."

The slight twitch of his hands was the only indication of Antonin Dolohov's annoyance. Meanwhile Bellatrix cackled evilly. Self-satisfied Draco peered at Riddle but was disappointed to find the other quite indifferent.

"How come you don't stay at Hogwarts, Tom?" another boy threw in shyly. "You always do except for summer holidays."

Riddle lazily turned his head and scanned the boy through his unreadable blue eyes. Sitting at the edge of the group, the other boy shifted awkwardly in his seat as he was hit with Riddle's scrutiny.

"There are things I have to settle, Regulus," Riddle finally replied, a cold tinge in his otherwise polite voice.

Without waiting for a reply Riddle gracefully got up from his seat, leaving a disappointed Bellatrix behind.

"Now, if you excuse me. I have a book to read," Riddle said smoothly, his voice thick with dark amusement.

From the Ravenclaw table, Amy Belby watched the Head Boy's process through the Great Hall. Sadness swam in her eyes as he ignored her completely. She had so hoped they would have a chance to meet again before they all departed for the Christmas break. Why was he ignoring her so utterly?

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Not even a day later, Riddle strolled through Malfoy manor, following Draco as the other led him towards the guest rooms. Climbing a flight of stairs, they quickly reached the first floor and followed down a corridor. The dark wood of the floor was polished to perfection. On the walls hung portraits of platinum blond men, staring snobbishly down at the visitors. Riddle silently followed Draco down the corridor his thoughts distractedly racing to the task he wanted to complete during the break. He would definitely have to visit Diagon Alley the next day to get all the equipment he needed.

"Right over here are the guest rooms," Draco's voice brought him out of his contemplation. "Your luggage has already been brought in."

Riddle didn't answer and they turned left into a hallway where Draco led his guest over to a door. He reached for the golden door handle and entered the room behind. Riddle followed him. The room was very spacious with a king-sized bed standing in its middle. Pieces of mahogany furniture were arranged tastefully in the room. Indeed, Riddle's trunk already stood at the foot of the king-sized bed.

"Dinner is planned for seven," Draco said. "If you should need anything, just call for Penny."

He turned to the door, waved his wand and said sharply,

"Penny."

He waited for a moment. Then there was a soft crack and the servant appeared out of thin air, immediately bowing before Draco.

"What can I do for you, Master?"

Draco sneered down at the creature and said bitingly,

"This is a guest of the family, Tom Riddle." He gestured at Riddle. "I want you to look after him for the duration of his stay."

"Of course, Master." Another bow.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the unopened trunk standing in the room. Then he ordered sharply,

"You can start with unpacking his things, Penny."

"Yes, Master," replied Penny obediently before she hurried over to the trunk.

Riddle threw Draco a dark glare and said, "I don't appreciate it very much when others touch my belongings."

Draco looked at him, fear lightly flickering through his eyes. "Of course," he said hastily.

He casually waved his wand at Penny, who had already opened the trunk. She was hurled away and squeaked painfully as she fell on the floor, but quickly scrambled up again.

"Don't touch his stuff!" Draco hissed at her threateningly.

Penny quickly assured, "I won't, Master."

"Leave us alone," he commanded.

Penny bowed deep then she turned around and scurried out of the room, her curly brown hair flipping loftily as she walked.

"Ts," Draco tutted derisively. "Mudbloods, too stupid to breathe if you didn't tell them how to."

†

Hermione rubbed her aching side. It hurt where she had been flung to the floor. She hadn't even done anything wrong to deserve it. Then again Draco never cared about things like fairness. Like always Hermione had dreaded the day he would return from his school. It was even more terrible now that he seemed to have brought along a friend. That dark-haired man, Riddle, had looked just as mean as Draco. Hermione quickly hurried away from the guest rooms and down the stairs. Hopefully neither Draco nor his friend would call her again today.

Hermione quickly reached the ground floor, left the main corridor and climbed down the old squeaky stairs to the kitchens. As she opened the doors, steam and the smell of roasted beef greeted her. The smell of the food instantly made her mouth water. Sadly she wouldn't get a bite of it. That was not for her. If she was really lucky, though, she could get a bit of Maggie's delicious vegetable soup. Hermione turned, looking for the woman. She smiled as she found her standing in front of the hearth. Careful as not to disturb the others working in the kitchen, Hermione tiptoed over to her.

"Hey, lass," Maggie greeted as she noticed Hermione. "Gotten into trouble again?"

Hermione beamed at the woman and shook her head. Maggie smiled at her in relief and put the wooden ladle away. The small chubby woman stepped over to Hermione and enveloped her in a motherly hug. Then she let go of her again, affectionately ruffled Hermione's bushy hair and stepped back to her pots and pans.

"Be a good girl, and help me peel the potatoes."

Hermione smiled, nodded and hopped over to the huge pile of potatoes sitting in a pot. She reached for a knife and started to peel them. She was rather glad to sit here in the kitchen. It was nicely warm. Later on she would have to go outside and clear the snow off the manor's entrance. She already felt chilly.

Hermione reached for another potato as the kitchen door opened. In stepped a girl not much older than Hermione. She was carrying a huge bag of laundry over her shoulder. Cursing colourfully, she hauled the bag over to another door and entered the room behind. A minute later she reappeared in the kitchen, without any bag, and hopped over to Hermione.

"Hey, Penny," the girl greeted her good-naturedly. "How's the day?"

"Splendid, Minky. Yours?"

"Fabulous, I would say. Weather's nice, too," Minky answered, grinning broadly, while she joined Hermione with peeling potatoes.

Hermione smiled back at her. They always had this ritual. It didn't really matter how their day had been. It was just nice using words like 'spectacular' for a change. There wasn't much opportunity to do so otherwise. Minky plopped a pealed potato into the pot and reached for a new one.

"Try to make the peels  _reeealy_  thick," she whispered to Hermione. "We can cook a soup out of them later."

Hermione giggled. "What do you think I'm trying to do here?" she whispered back in amusement.

"Yeah," Minky replied lightly. "Gotta eat something, right?"

"Right you are," conceded Hermione.

"By the way, I heard the Blacks are visiting today," Minky informed her while looking like she had bitten into a lemon.

Hermione had the same expression on her face as she heard it. "Ugh."

Minky shrugged her shoulders. "That's what I thought."

"And Draco has a guest, too," Hermione added unenthusiastically.

The other girl raised her eyebrows. "Who's it?"

"No-one we know," she replied. "Tom Riddle. I guess he's at the same school as Draco."

Minky sighed tiredly. "More work for us." Her brown eyes flashed at Hermione. "How'd he look?"

Hermione groaned softly. She very well knew Minky hadn't asked for a description of Riddle's physical appearance.

"Well, he looked like the type to curse the hell out of you if you so much as breathe in the wrong way."

Minky plopped another potato into the pot. "Better steer clear of that one then?"

"Definitely," was Hermione's reply.

†

It was a few hours later that Hermione stood in the entrance hall of Malfoy manor with a pack of cloaks in her hands. Holding the expensive clothes cautiously, she quickly carried them over to a small room where she put them away on a clothes rail. Gently closing the door behind her she hurried through the entrance hall and down a corridor towards the drawing room.

Hermione tried to be as quiet as possible as she slipped into the room. The Malfoys and their guests already sat at the bountiful table. Hermione let her gaze quickly wander over the people at the table. Lucius was sitting at the head with Narcissa and Draco by his side. Then there were Cygnus and Druella Black and their daughter, Bellatrix. Hermione shuddered as she surreptitiously scanned the girl. She had never liked Bellatrix Black. Right beside Bellatrix sat Tom Riddle. Hermione would have liked to roll her eyes as she saw the glassy look in Bellatrix' eyes as she scanned Riddle. Wasn't she already engaged? Hermione stopped wondering about Bellatrix' marriage plans but quickly scurried over to Sam who was serving the soup. He threw her a grateful look as Hermione helped him.

.

It was a good half hour later as Hermione stood a bit away from the table, silently waiting for any orders, and watched the people eat. Her mouth was watering as she longingly eyed the food on the table. She hadn't had the time to eat anything since breakfast. Hopefully Maggie had found the time to make that promised vegetable soup from the leftovers. Hermione suppressed a tired sigh and tuned into the conversation.

"Did you hear from the Schönbach case over in Germany?" Lucius asked while he cut his roast beef.

Mrs Black looked at him interestedly and replied, "Yes, of course. And it is a disgrace, let me tell you that."

Narcissa nodded in agreement, furrowing her brow in disgust. Bellatrix morosely pushed her boiled potatoes around her plate.

"What case?" she asked in a bored voice.

Her father frowned at her. "You really should read the papers more often, Bella. It would do you some good."

Bellatrix just shrugged her shoulders, not really impressed by her father's rebuke.

"Really, Bellatrix," Mrs Black chided her daughter sternly. "Your father is right."

At her mother's sharp words, Bellatrix straightened up on her seat, for the first time looking really contrite.

"Yes, mother," she replied subdued.

Her mother narrowed her eyes at her and said, "For your information Lucius talked about that murder case over in Germany. Marcel Schönbach allegedly killed his aunt. The Schönbachs are a very old and rich Pureblood family and now that Hanna Schönbach is dead Marcel will inherit the fortune."

Mr Black shook his head in indignation as listened to his wife. "How could such a prestigious family sink so low? Now it's all over the press. What a scandal."

Lucius nodded at that. "It is, it is. I actually knew Hanna. She was a fine woman."

"Yes," Nacissa consented. "And now she's dead. Poisoned, as far as I know."

"How'd he actually do it?" Mr Black asked.

"As far as I know," Mrs Black said. "Marcel used the Imperius Curse on his aunt's Mudblood and forced it to serve her poisoned tea. She died instantly after she drank it."

"How horrible," gasped Narcissa. "I hope that filthy Mudblood got punished."

"Yes, of course," Mrs Black said. "The Mudblood was immediately killed as they found out the truth."

Nacissa nodded approvingly and Hermione felt an icy cold shiver running down her spine.

"What a nasty affair," Lucius sighed. "They shouldn't have wrenched this into the public."

Riddle put his silver knife down on his plate and said in his silky voice, "Yes, it is rather unfortunate how that trial is ruining an old family's name. Still, this whole lawsuit seems to be nothing more than a red herring. Now that the Schönbachs are all over the papers, the German Minister's dissolute lifestyle no longer makes the headlines."

Mrs Black threw Riddle an appreciative glance. She took a sip from her wine glass before she said, smiling at him,

"Yes. It  _does_  sound like a masterful political stroke. After all, next month they have elections in Germany."

Riddle inclined his head. "The Minister can hardly win any votes when his conquests continue to chitchat with the tabloid press."

Mrs Black threw him a small smile as she took another sip from her glass.

"I tell you." Narcissa shook her head. "If Grindelwald were still alive, something like this would have never happened."

Hermione, who still stood by the table awaiting any orders, nearly rolled her eyes.  _Narcissa and her antics_ , she sighed in her mind. With that topic the woman could go on for hours. Hermione dearly hoped she wouldn't. It had been a long day and Hermione just wanted to sit down for a second. Her feet hurt terribly and she was incredibly tired.

"Narcissa, darling," her husband said, laying a soothing hand over Narcissa's. "Grindelwald was an old man. No-one can live forever."

"But he survived so many assassination attempts, just to die in an accident?" Narcissa lamented. "If only he hadn't experimented so much."

"You are right," Lucius consoled her. "But we should be grateful that he was alive long enough to present us with our a stable society. Everyone has enough to eat, the land prospers and for decades no wars have threatened our wealth. Everybody is safe and content with their lives. We have Grindelwald to thank for that."

"Yes," Mr Black conceded. "Imagine the horrors if one of those assassination attempts would have been successful."

Narcissa shuddered visibly at that.

"Grindelwald was a brave and strong man," Mr Black continued. "Back in the 1940s he even got attacked by his closest friend. Imagine that. His best friend turned against him and duelled him. Of course, Grindelwald prevailed."

Riddle raised an eyebrow at the other. "You mean Albus Dumbledore?"

Mr Black nodded gravely. "I shudder to think what would have happened to us all if Grindelwald had lost that duel."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

A bowl of steaming soup stood invitingly before Hermione and she sighed in relief. Right now, she sat down in the kitchen at a small sidetable and was incedibly glad that a long day was finally over. She just wanted to reach for her spoon as she felt the familiar pull of her Master calling her. She reached for her left forearm, trying to rub away the stinging feeling.

"Dammit," she muttered.

Minky threw her a pitying look but didn't stop to spoon the soup into her mouth. Hermione stuck out her tongue at her, before she twirled on the spot and disappeared from the kitchen.

With a soft crack, she appeared in Draco's rooms. Quickly Hermione let her gaze wander over the room. She spotted Bellatrix lounging on one of the lush sofas. Tom Riddle was sitting right beside her with a sour expression on his face. Draco sat in his armchair. Hermione hastily stepped over to him and bowed.

"How can I help you, Master?"

Draco sneered at her, which wasn't anything unusual.

"Get us something to drink," he barked at her.

"Yes, Master," Hermione whispered.

With that she swirled on the spot. Seconds later Hermione reappeared in the kitchen and immediately started to prepare a tray with beverages. As she was finished she took the silver tray and quickly apparated back to Draco's rooms.

"-thought you would stay the whole holidays." Hermione heard Bellatrix' voice pout.

"No," Riddle's smooth voice answered. "I have something important to deal with."

As Hermione put the silver tray down on a side table, she glanced at Draco. Curiosity was glinting in his cold grey eyes as he scanned Riddle. She had no time to dwell on it but started to serve them.

Shortly later all three of them had a glass of red wine in front of them and Hermione stepped away as not to disturb their conversation. Wine carafe in her hand, she waited for any more orders.

"Tom," probed Bellatrix sulkily. "What's so important that you have to leave?"

_…that you have to leave me?_ Hermione mockingly imitated Bellatrix' voice in her head. She almost laughed out loud as she saw an annoyed glint in Riddle's calm eyes. He probably had had the same thoughts as he listened to Bellatrix' nagging.

"Nothing that's any of your business," Riddle said. His voice was still polite but there was cold finality lacing his tone.

Bellatrix pouted her lips as she heard him and leaned back in the sofa. Obviously in a cranky mood now, she twirled her wand through her fingers.

Draco, being somewhat entertained by Bellatrix' sour mood, drawled, "Say, Bellatrix, didn't your parents want you to visit the Lestranges for their annual New Eve's party?" He threw the girl a very fake smile. "After all you can't leave your fiancé alone for too long."

Bellatrix' glare grew very dark as she stared at Draco. By now she held her wand properly and looked like she considered cursing the other. Mocking smirk still in place, Draco just eyed her amused. Hermione observed it and just wished that she was somewhere else. Preferably down in the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup in front of her. She suppressed a tired sigh as she saw the angry look on Bellatrix face and Draco's smug grin.

Meanwhile, Riddle sat right beside the irate Bellatrix on the couch, one leg draped over the other, and looked rather bored. Hermione shortly wondered why he was even here. He looked like he was enjoying it even less than her. As her eyes spotted the empty glass in front of Riddle, she grabbed the wine carafe and hurried over to him.

"Can I top you up?" Hermione asked in a soft voice.

Riddle's steely blue eyes landed on her. She shuddered as they seemed to burn into her. She didn't even dare to breathe while he stared at her. He didn't reply but only shook his head slightly. Hermione bowed to him obsequiously before she stepped over to Draco who also had an empty glass in his hand.

He held the glass with an impatient look on his face, as Hermione cautiously filled it up. It was then that a malicious smirk appeared on Bellatrix' face. She stopped twirling her wand idly in her hand and instead waved it at Hermione's back. Hermione was still pouring the wine as a stinging jinx hit her. She yelped painfully as the jinx impacted with her back. Her hand shook and she spilled wine all over Draco's pants. He cursed colourfully and sprang up from his seat while Bellatrix cackled evilly. Hermione's eyes widened in fear as she saw the huge stain on Draco's clothes. Her gaze wandered up to his face. He looked livid. Hermione immediately cowered before him.

"I… I'm deeply sorry, Master," she whispered fearfully.

"Damn," Draco yelled at her. "You clumsy fool!"

He raised his hand and slapped her forcefully. Hermione's head was thrown to the side as his hand impacted with her cheek. She suppressed a whimper and lowered her head again.

"I'm sorry, Master," she repeated softly.

He didn't reply but just pulled his wand. Hermione stiffened as she saw it but didn't try to get away from him.

"Pulso," Draco cried while flicking his wand at her.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as his magic hit her. She was hurled away and painfully collided with the floor. The jug, she still held in her hand, shattered and she could feel its shards cutting into her hand. She clenched her teeth and tried to ignore the pain as she sat up on the floor. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Bellatrix smirking evilly, obviously amused by the chaos she had created. Riddle seemed to still be completely disinterested and didn't even look Hermione's way.

"Clean this mess up," Draco ordered her. "And then get away from here."

"Yes, Master," Hermione whispered.

She reached into her pocket and pulled her bright-red wand. Scorgify was one of the limited spells she could do with her capped wand. Hermione quickly waved her wand over the glass shards on the floor.

"Scorgify," she mumbled.

The shards and the spilled wine disappeared. After that, Hermione again bowed to Draco, who wasn't even looking in her direction anymore. Then she twirled on the spot and left the room. Seconds later she reappeared in the kitchen.

She was greeted by Minky who sat at the kitchen table. She had needle and threat in her hand and tried to repair her sock which was full of holes. As Minky heard the crack of apparition she looked up from her work.

"There you are." She smiled at Hermione. "I've reserved you some of the soup."

"Thanks," Hermione said and tiredly sat down beside her.

She reached for a cloth that lay on the table and wrapped it around her bleeding hand. Minky got up and fetched a bowl of vegetable soup. Hermione gratefully started on the soup, using her left hand as her right one was covered in aching cuts.

"Still a splendid day?" Minky asked casually as she again sat down beside Hermione.

"Magnificent," she replied between two spoonfulls of soup.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was late and Hermione was terribly tired. Still, she crept out of the servants' quarters, careful not to wake Minky as she stepped over her cot. Hermione's heart thundered in her chest as she sneaked through the manor's corridors up to the first floor. Cautiously she tiptoed over the wooden floor. She intentionally had left her shoes so they wouldn't clatter and alert anyone.

Just a few more steps and she reached the huge wooden door. Hermione opened it slowly as to not create any sound then she entered. The room behind was huge and filled with shelves and shelves of books. It was the Malfoy family's library. Hermione stopped shortly, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The smell of parchment and old books, it always managed to let a smile appear on her face.

Hermione opened her eyes again and stepped deeper into the Malfoy library. Trying to be as silent as possible she sneaked over to one of the shelves. With ease she found the book she had been looking for. She reached for the thick leather-bound tome and pulled it from the shelf. As she held the heavy book her hand smarted from the cuts she had received earlier, but she just ignored the pain. Curses and Jinxes VI: Advanced Curse Breaking, read the book's title. With practised ease she flipped it open and quickly found the page where she had stopped yesterday. Then she stepped over to the window and began to read, the moon light illuminating the letters.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**'** **The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.'**

**\- Ernest Hemingway (*1899 †1961)**

** **


	2. Nature, Like Us

The next day, Hermione got up late. It was almost six already. She stumbled into the kitchen and blinked tiredly as she was met with all the bustle. Yawning widely, she had to admit that she might have gotten up a few minutes later than usual. But that book had been so fascinating. She had been unable to leave the library before two. No wonder she was dead tired on her feet. Cursing silently, Hermione walked over to Maggie.

"Morning, Penny," Sam greeted her as he walked by, balancing a huge pot in his hands.

"Morning." Hermione smiled at him.

Then she stepped over to Maggie. As usual the woman stood in front of the hearth, preparing the Malfoys' breakfast.

"There you are." Maggie smiled as she spotted Hermione. "Finally got up, did you?"

"Sorry," Hermione said apologetically. "I was just so tired."

Maggie laughed at that. "Don't worry, dear. It's not like you missed anything important." She winked at Hermione before she added, "Now help yourself to something to eat."

With that Maggie pushed her into a chair and placed a plate with a slice of bread and a bit of cheese in front of her.

"Thanks," said Hermione and started to eat.

Maggie gave her another smile and ruffled her curly hair affectionately before she turned around and continued to prepare breakfast for the Malfoys. Hermione wolfed down her food, still feeling horribly tired. She wondered how she was going to survive the day. With a sigh she got up from the table. Unfortunately, a lot of chores lay before her.

_Oh, the joy of working for the Malfoys._

†

"You know, it's not that bad," Minky pointed out.

" _Excuse_  me?" huffed Hermione irritably. "How can this get any worse?"

She was sitting on her knees, her back already hurting from the crouched position, and held a brush in one hand and a cloth in the other. Minky sat in very much the same position just a few metres away from Hermione. They both were right in the middle of polishing the dark wood of the Malfoy manor's flooring. Somehow Nacissa had decided that it wasn't ' _shiny'_  enough. And that yesterday, as the Blacks had visited, she had been ' _mortified'_  by the embarrassing interior of her home. Thus she had called for Hermione and Minky and ordered them to do something against ' _that decay_ ' which had apparently manifested in Malfoy manor.

Now Hermione and Minky were stuck – probably for the rest of the day  _…or month_  – with cleaning the manor. To beeswax the floor was certainly not something Hermione enjoyed to do at eight in the morning. It was tedious work to say the least. The wood of the floor first needed to be scrubbed clean with a tiny brush, before the polish needed to be meticulously applied to it with a soft cloth. Not that the flooring hadn't already been shiny enough. The whole thing was a waste of time if someone asked Hermione. But as she didn't want to end up at the receiving end of Nacissa's wand, Hermione hadn't voiced her opinion and just did as she was told.

"Well, for example, if Narcissa would remember that we could clear up in the attic,  _that_  would be worse," commented Minky while furiously scrubbing at a rather persistent stain on the floor.

Hermione only shortly glanced at her and groaned,

"Don't let her hear that."

†

It was a few hours later, that both girls tiredly flopped down on a bench in the kitchen. They had been running around the manor for ages, doing Narcissa's bidding. Rubbing her painful knees, Minky turned to Hermione and declared,

"God, that had to have been the fourth most horrible thing I ever had to do."

Hermione blinked at the other. After a moment she remarked, "I don't really want to know about those other three things that were obviously worse."

"No," said Minky, her head lolling back. "I suppose you don't."

Hermione reached for a crumb of bread lying on the table in front of her and plopped it into her mouth. It was after noon already, probably around two, and Hermione had her fingers crossed that Narcissa wouldn't continue to torture them with her cleaning rage anymore. Sighing heavily, she leaned back in her seat and glanced at Minky beside her. Still chewing on her bread, Hermione pondered,

"Well, that one time I had to glue together Draco's broom because he broke it into a thousand pieces surely was worse. And he still cursed me, 'cause his glued broom wouldn't fly anymore."

Minky patted Hermione's shoulder, never opening her eyes, and consoled half-heartedly, "Wasn't your fault, Penny."

Hermione just opened her mouth to reply something as she felt the familiar sting in her left forearm.

"Shit," she cursed and grabbed her arm.

Minky tiredly turned her head to her friend. "Tough luck."

Hermione glared at her and stated, "I hate you."

Minky replied with a toothy grin before her eyelids again drooped. Hermione reluctantly got up from her seat, twirled on the spot and apparated to her master.

With a soft pop she reappeared in Draco's rooms. Her eyes quickly wandered over the room, taking in the situation. She spotted that Riddle guy. He elegantly lounged on a couch. In his lap was a book and his frosty blue eyes wandered over the text. His pale face was schooled into a blank mask.  _At least Bellatrix is nowhere to be seen_ , Hermione though wryly. Draco stood right in front of her, wearing his thick winter cloak. Once again, he was glaring down at her. Hermione didn't want to end up in the middle of one of his temper tantrums, so she bowed before him and whispered servilely,

"You called me, Master?"

Draco narrowed his grey eyes before he snapped brusquely, "Stop wasting my time with your babbling."

"I'm sorry, Master," said Hermione quickly, lowering her head.

 _What a sunshine my master is_ , a sarcastic voice rang through her mind. If only she could go back to the kitchen and Minky. She didn't want things to end up like yesterday. Her right hand was still covered in aching cuts. Draco still hadn't given her any order. Instead he turned towards Riddle and asked, suddenly disturbingly polite,

"Are you ready to go, Tom?"

Riddle's incredibly blue eyes left his book and fell on Draco. Draco stiffened slightly as the other was scanning him calmly. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had never seen her arrogant master act this nervously. Quickly she hid her surprise, lest she got cursed for it. Riddle's unfathomable eyes still rested on Draco, then he gave an almost imperceptible nod. He closed his book and gracefully got up from the couch. Draco turned around to Hermione and, his tone once again harsh, ordered her,

"Get over here. You are going to apparate us."

"Yes, Master," mumbled Hermione and hastily stepped over to him.

Riddle raised an indignant eyebrow at Draco and said delicately, "I can apparate myself."

The other waved it away with a gesture of his hand and said, "Save yourself the trouble. Penny can do it. And she's triggered to the wards around the manor. You wouldn't be able to apparate from here."

Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes. She didn't know about Riddle, but she knew that Draco was really bad with Apparition. It wasn't so bad that he got himself splinched but he would ever so often appear a mile off his original destination.  _Not_  that Hermione would ever point that out to him. She didn't fancy getting a crucio to her head, thank you very much.

Draco stepped closer to Hermione and grabbed her left forearm. She winced as his fingers clenched around her wrist painfully tight. Riddle still didn't look very comfortable with the course of events but he didn't argue anymore. Instead he stepped over to Hermione. His piercing blue eyes bored into her and she quickly averted her gaze. For the first time, she noticed how tall Riddle was. A few inches taller than Draco and at least a head taller than herself. Hermione wanted to shy away from him as he was emitting a strangely dark aura. She didn't dare to move though. Riddle raised his hand but unlike Draco he didn't grab her arm. Hermione almost jumped as his hand closed around her own in a firm but not painfully tight grip. She was still reeling from the shock of being touched in this manner as Draco snapped at her impatiently,

"To Diagon Alley."

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated. Apparition was really no problem for her, but having to drag two passengers with her via side-along Apparition wasn't exactly easy. Thinking very hard of her destination, Hermione twirled on the spot and stepped into a dark pressure.

Just a few seconds and they left the dark pressure to appear on the Apparition area in Diagon Alley. As soon as Hermione arrived, a cold wind began to rip at her.  _No wonder_ , she thought miserably and looked up at the grey sky. It snowed softly which wasn't that uncommon for December. Hermione shuddered and drew her thin robes tighter around herself. Jealously, she eyed the thick winter cloaks Draco and Riddle were wearing. Paying Hermione no attention at all, they strode over to the actual entrance into Diagon Alley. Still shivering, she followed them. While she walked, Hermione reluctantly rolled up the left sleeve of her black robe. She only fleetingly glanced at the ugly Dark Mark which was tattooed into the skin of her left forearm. It wasn't something she enjoyed looking at. Unfortunately, she couldn't walk around any public place without exposing her mark. Her status as Mudblood had to be apparent at all times. Though Hermione was off the opinion that showing her mark wasn't really necessary to identify her as a Mudblood. After all, no sane witch would walk around in such tattered rags, she thought as she looked down at her thin dress. It was made of rough cotton material, was rather baggy and didn't protect her in any way against the cold. Her black outer robe wasn't helping either. Morosely, Hermione followed Riddle and Draco towards the brick wall which marked the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Riddle raised his wand and tapped it at certain bricks. Instantly the brick stones arranged themselves anew and revealed the entrance into the alley. Hermione still followed the two wizards and stepped into Diagon Alley. A small smile dared to flitter over her face as she gazed at the hustle and bustle that always seemed to hover around the alley. A lot of people crowded the place, probably doing last minute shopping for the upcoming Christmas. Hermione amusedly watched all the harassed looking parents dragging their children along from shop to shop. A tiny wizard loaded with so many bags and parcels that only his pointed hat was visible slowly fumbled his way towards the Apparition area. All the while soft snowflakes were falling down on the scene.

"So?" Draco's voice interrupted Hermione's musings. "Where do you need to go?"

The blond wizard scanned Riddle. Riddle's frosty eyes had taken in Diagon Alley but now focused in on the other.

"Knockturn," he replied in his deep smooth voice.

Draco nodded as if he hadn't expected anything less from the other and said, "I have to go to Twilfitt and Tatting's. Get new dress robes."

Riddle glanced at him imperiously. "Why would you need that?"

"You remember Beltaine is just a few months away, don't you?" replied Draco.

Riddle looked at him with his emotionless cold eyes. "So what?"

"Oh, come on, Tom." Draco peered at the other. "As Head Boy you're in charge with organising the ball. You know it's a huge thing."

Riddle's face was still an unfathomable blank mask as he replied, bored, "It's just a pointless ball, Draco. Why do you care?"

"Because," Draco drawled, a devious smirk appearing on his face. "I've already asked Parkinson to accompany me. A bit of  _romantic_  dancing and a spiked punch is my way to finally get into her pants. That's why."

Riddle sighed in irritation. "That's pathetic."

Still smirking, Draco shrugged his shoulders. "I can totally live with that."

Riddle didn't reply to that and was probably not even listening anymore. Instead he turned away and walked over to what was the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Draco's grey eyes snapped to Hermione and he said commandingly,

"Penny, you go with Riddle."

Hermione was confused by that order but tried not to show it.

"Yes, Master," she replied duteously.

"Tell him we meet in half an hour in front of the Leaky Cauldron," was all Draco said before he turned and walked away.

Hermione suppressed a groan as she heard it. She was pretty sure Riddle wouldn't like it very much when she informed him. Remembering that she was supposed to stay with Riddle, Hermione looked for him. She just saw him entering Knockturn alley and quickly scurried after him.

Knockturn Alley was dark and made Hermione feel very uncomfortable. Due to the fact that the Malfoys often had business in Knockturn Alley, she still knew her way around quite well. It didn't take her long and she spotted Riddle's head of black hair among the other people. Hermione didn't look at any of the other people as she hurried after Riddle. The crowd in Knockturn Alley tended to be a tad darker than that in Diagon Alley and she didn't want to anger any of them.

So, Hermione carefully watched out that she didn't run into anyone as she hastened after Riddle. As she finally reached him, Hermione silently followed him, a few steps behind. It didn't take him long and Riddle noticed her presence. He turned around to her and his icy blue eyes washed over her.

"What do  _you_  want?" Riddle inquired sharply.

Hermione shied a bit away from him and whispered timidly, "M- Master wanted me to tell you that he would like to meet you in half an hour at the Leaky Cauldron."

Riddle narrowed his eyes at her, obviously not pleased with the fact Draco tried to indirectly ordered him around. Hermione braced herself for him yelling at her or even cursing her. Riddle, though, didn't do that. Although there was a shadow of anger burning in his piercing eyes, his expression was completely devoid of any emotion.

"Fine," he replied curtly.

Without more words, he continued his way. Hermione followed him. It only took Riddle a few seconds to realize that she hadn't left again. He glanced at her, frown in place, and asked,

"So, are you planning to follow me around, or what?"

Hermione squirmed under his hard gaze but finally nodded. "Master told me to."

Riddle sighed in annoyance but didn't comment. Hermione was quite glad that he hadn't decided to curse her. Draco surely wouldn't have been so lenient in the same situation. His black cloak billowing behind him, Riddle gracefully strode down the alley while Hermione cautiously scuttled behind him. It wasn't long and Riddle stepped towards one of the shady stores. Hermione didn't know this one and there was no sign indicating what was sold in the shop, just that it was owned by one F. A. Runcorn. The shop window was rather dark and murky, though she could see a few shrunken heads and some kind of bones lying about. Riddle ignored the menacing atmosphere hanging around the shop but confidently opened the door. Hermione stepped a bit closer to the shop window and intended to wait there. Riddle hesitated shortly and threw a glance back at her.

"What?" he asked, light mock hidden in his tone. "Already tired of shadowing me?"

"Er… no, Master Riddle," Hermione stammered uncomfortably. She didn't look up at the wizard as she explained, "I'm not… you know… allowed to enter any shop."

She could see Riddle's icy blue eyes wandering to the dark mark, which was still exposed on her forearm. His intense gaze seemed to cut into her and Hermione felt the need to somehow hide her sullied skin from him.

"I see," Riddle said, his tone completely expressionless.

His penetrating eyes rested on her for a second longer, then he entered the shop and left her behind without another word. Stepping from one foot to the other to keep herself warm, Hermione waited in front of the shop. By now it snowed more heavily and she shivered. Hopefully Riddle would come back soon.

It was only a few minutes after Riddle had left her, that Hermione noticed that strange man staring at her. Clothed in a shabby brown cloak, the brawny man stood on the other side of the street. His face was hidden by a filthy beard and by the cloak's hood he had drawn deep into his face. Still, Hermione could see his eyes raking slowly over her body. It made her nervous. Knockturn Alley was always full of weirdoes.

A predatory glint danced in the man's eyes as he slowly stalked over to her. He stopped standing right before her. Hermione cowered away until her back hit the glass of the shop's window. A grin appeared on the man's face as he took in her shivering form. He raised a gnarled hand and grasped her shoulder. Hermione saw a pair of scars running across his face, giving him a haunting look.

"Such a fine lil' thing, arn't cha?" the man asked, his voice rough and raspy.

The wolfish grin still danced around his mouth as he slowly bent down to her. He sniffed her hair while he still looked at her greedily. Hermione's heart raced away in her chest and she fearfully squeezed her eyes shut.

"Stop that," a sharp voice hissed.

Hermione's eyes snapped open. She turned her head and found Riddle standing in the shop entrance. His pale face was expressionless as always but Hermione could see a murderous glimmer burning in his blue eyes as he stared at the man. The brawny man still held Hermione's shoulder. He glared at Riddle threateningly and a deep growl left him.

"Shouldn't 've left 'er," the man snarled. "'s mine now."

Hermione whimpered as his grip on her shoulder became painfully tight. Riddle didn't lose the blank mask on his face, but his magic started to whirl around him. In fact, it crackled dangerously in the air and already ripped at the burly man viciously. Icy cold eyes wandered one last time over the man. Then Riddle ordered, his voice commanding with a sharp edge hidden underneath,

"Get lost."

Hermione saw something odd gleaming in Riddle's eyes. Whatever it was, it sent icy cold chills down her spine. Obviously the man had also heard the murderous threat underlying Riddle's words or it was the incredibly dark magic charging the air that made him release Hermione's shoulder, growling in anger. Fixing Riddle with a glare, the man reluctantly stepped away and disappeared in the shadows of Knockturn Alley. Hermione's breathing was still accelerated and she stood petrified with fear.

"Hurry up."

She flinched as she heard that the malice was still wrapped around Riddle's voice. Her stomach knotted with fear as Hermione quickly hurried after Riddle who was already walking towards Diagon Alley. She could feel the remnants of his aggressive magic still prickling all over her skin. Never had she felt magic so dark and it scared her. Her body still trembled slightly as she followed Riddle into Diagon Alley, glad to be able to leave Knockturn behind.

Hermione still felt horribly shaky as they passed Gringott's. Hermione read the huge clock hanging over Gringott's entrance. Almost half an hour had passed. Draco would be expecting them soon. Riddle, though, made no move to go over to the Leaky Cauldron. Instead he headed for a shop at the opposite end of the alley. Obviously, he did not waste even one thought on Draco. Hermione followed him, the feeling of his furious magic still ghosting over her body. Soon Riddle entered another shop. Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, Hermione read the sign. The bell of the shop's door jingled and once again Hermione was left to wait outside.

Riddle was gone for a while and Hermione entertained herself by surreptitiously watching the witches and wizards walking by and entering the various shops. A smile flittered over her face. She had always liked Diagon Alley. This hustle and bustle was wonderful. If only she could enter the shops. She threw a longing glance at a shop not far from where she stood: Flourish and Blott's. Hermione had always dreamed about entering that one. She wondered how it would be, just walking in there and raking through their books, maybe even buying one.

… _okay_ , she admitted to herself.  _I might buy more than one. But surely not more than three._

After all three was a nice number, Hermione mused as she dreamily goggled at the shop. Then again, wasn't seven the magical number? She chuckled softly as she pictured herself, loaded with countless shopping bags full of books, flouncing down Diagon Alley.

Her happy daydream was cut short as, out of the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw a certain platinum blond boy walking over to her. A sour expression on his face, Draco stomped over to her. Hermione tensed as he reached her and glared down at her angrily. He carried a huge parcel under his arm which he unceremoniously shoved to Hermione. She accepted it and held it awkwardly as Draco asked curtly,

"Where's Riddle?"

Hermione tried to bow but almost lost her grip on the huge parcel he had given her. Trying to regain her balance, Hermione replied softly, gesturing at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment,

"He's inside this shop, Master."

Draco's steely grey eyes bored into her, annoyance swirling in them. Then he snapped, "I thought I ordered you to tell him to meet me. I've waited for an eternity."

Hermione sincerely doubted that but she still hastily apologized, "I'm sorry, Master."

Of course she could have gone and informed Draco that she, in fact, had told Riddle to meet him but that the guy had simply not cared.  _Surely_  her forgiving master would have understood the situation and would not have blamed her. Hermione was dying to roll her eyes as the sarcasm echoed through her head. Unfortunately Draco's hard gaze still rested on her, so she abstained from doing so. Finally he turned away from her and stepped over to the shop entrance while mumbling under his breath,

"Stupid Mudblood."

Hermione didn't even bat an eye as she heard it. She was too used to Draco snapping things like that at her. At least he hadn't cursed her. Draco left her standing alone in front of the shop. It started to snow again and Hermione shivered. She tried to ignore the cold and let herself drop back into her happy daydream.

Hermione didn't know how long she had dreamed about her pile of books as she again heard Draco's voice. This time it was disturbingly polite and even had a pleading touch to it,

"Tom, why can't you tell me? You can trust me, I swear I won't tell anyone."

Hermione turned and saw Riddle stepping out of the shop. His blank face was devoid of any emotion and Hermione slowly started to doubt that he could feel anything at all. He seemed to be more closely related to a block of ice than a human being. His cold blue eyes certainly looked like chips of ice.

"My business is my own," Riddle supplied, his voice dangerously soft.

The eerie malice hidden in his voice made Hermione shudder involuntarily. Riddle threw a dark glare at Draco and readjusted the strap of the travel bag he was now carrying. The blond was not impressed but continued to look at Riddle pleadingly.

"Come on, Tom," Draco tried to fiddle more information out. "What do you need to do in  _Albania_?"

Riddle shot the other an evil look before he strode away from the shop, still carrying the travel bag. Draco immediately followed him.

"I mean why did you buy that tent?" Draco asked, gesturing at Riddle's bag. "How long do you plan to stay in Albania?"

Hermione simply followed the two wizards, trying to be as inconspicious as possible. As Riddle didn't react at all to Draco anymore, the blond changed his strategy from begging to baiting.

"Seriously, Tom," Draco said. "Why would you want to go alone? I can help you with whatever you want to do."

Hermione furrowed her brow as she heard that. It didn't sound too promising, did it? Draco, undeterred by Riddle's dark glare, reached for the olive bag the other was carrying.

"Penny!" the blond snapped at Hermione. "You carry this!"

She quickly hurried over to Draco. He had taken the bag from Riddle and now thrust it into Hermione's arms. She almost groaned at the weight. The bag was heavy and she struggled with it for a while, almost dropping the parcel Draco had given her earlier. Meanwhile the two wizards had continued down the alley and Hermione had to somehow follow them.

"I certainly don't need your help." She heard Riddle's smooth voice hissing at Draco.

Hermione could see Draco's back stiffen but then he seemed to catch himself and supplied cautiously, "Of course, you wouldn't  _need_  my help. I would never assume. But it would make things easier. I promise."

Irritation burned in Riddle's eyes as he scanned Draco. The other innocently raised his eyebrows.

"Look-" Draco said, trying to convince the other.

He reached for Hermione who had finally caught up with them, harshly grabbed her upper arm and pulled her over to them.

"-I'll bring Penny along. She can do all the work for us."

Hermione staggered dangerously and almost dropped everything as Draco released her again. Cursing silently, she took a step back. A shudder ran down her spine as she noticed how Riddle's cold eyes scanned her. Soon his emotionless gaze fell back on Draco.

"If you take me along," the blond bargained. "I'll pay for everything and we can use my father's fireplace to floo to Albania."

It was then that a contemplative streak entered Riddle's eyes and Hermione almost groaned. She really didn't want to be dragged along. After a moment of silence, Riddle said in his silky voice,

"Very well. If you insist, you can tag along."

A pleased smirk appeared on Draco's face. Hermione, on the other hand, just wanted to curse out loud. She would have really liked to whack that smirk off Draco's face.

"Perfect," Draco drawled. "You won't regret it."

Riddle just eyed him imperiously. Then he said in his usual emotionless tone,

"Make sure that I don't."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione sat on her little cot in the servants' quarters of Malfoy manor and was feeling dejected. Since the Diagon Alley disaster she felt horrible. The prospect of having to travel with Draco was awful. Here at the manor she could at least sometimes manage to slip away from him. That Riddle was coming along wasn't helping the matter at all. He was an unpredictable parameter in the whole equation and Hermione was stuck right in the middle of it. Hopefully they wouldn't be gone for long. After all, school started in about two weeks. Draco had to be back by then.

Sighing loudly, Hermione got up from her bed and grabbed the mattress to lift it a bit. The wooden bed frame underneath was worm-eaten and rather unsteady. Ignoring that sad state, Hermione stretched and reached for an object that lay hidden under the mattress. She grabbed the object before she put the mattress back in place and sat on top of it. A soft smile slid on Hermione's face as she looked at the object in her hand. It was her most valuable possession.

A small book lay in her hands. Its leather cover book was covered in stains and was so old it almost fell apart. Hermione knew that some of the book's pages were missing but that didn't matter at all. Her fingers lovingly skimmed over the cover. It was a small encyclopaedia of common spells and curses. Many years ago, Hermione had found the tattered book lying abandoned in the gutter of Diagon Alley. Heart pounding with fear, Hermione had snatched the book and hidden it in her pocket.

Smiling absentmindedly, Hermione opened the book at random. Immobulus; the Freezing Charm. Underneath the headline were some descriptions to the charm and a moving picture showing the wand movements. This book had started it all. Hermione hadn't been able to hold herself back. Only a few weeks after she had found the book, she had already known if off by heart. She had even trained the wand movements with her capped wand. Sadly she couldn't perform the spells without a real wand. After she had mastered this book, Hermione had taken to sneak out at night and go to the Malfoys' library.

Her fingers tightened around the book. This small inconspicous little book was a life saver. Without it, Hermione might have given up years ago. Without this book and without the knowledge hidden in the library, she would not have been able to put up with everything.

With a thud she closed the book. Hermione had made up her mind. Risky as it might be, she would take the book with her to Albania. That was probably the worst part of this trip: There was no library to sneak off to and no books she could lose herself into. She needed at least a small piece of hope she could hold on to.

The door to the servants' quarters was torn open and Hermione stiffened. Quickly she stuffed her book into the pocket of her robe and turned her head. A relieved sigh left her as she saw Minky, walking towards her. Yawning loudly, the other girl flopped back into the cot right beside Hermione's.

"Merlin, what a day," Minky exclaimed. "After you abandoned me to God knows where, I only had Narcissa as company. She made me clean the windows, polish the silver and re-arrange all the furniture in the drawing room, including the heavy oak table …twice. Because – and I quote Narcissa – the atmosphere in the room was too depressing."

Minky groaned tiredly and rubbed at her eyes. As Hermione didn't react to her rant Minky peered at her. Seeing the sullen look on the other's face she asked,

"What are you brooding about?"

Hermione's gaze wandered to the girl on the bed and she replied unenthusiastically, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

Minky was suddenly wide awake and sat up in her bed.

"What?"

Hermione sighed tiredly before she explained, "Draco and that Riddle guy want to go on vacation or something of the sorts.  _Of course_  they want me to come alone, so I can pick up after them."

"Oh," made Minky and scratched her head. Then she smiled and supplied, "Well, that's not  _too_  bad. Where're you going?"

"Albania."

Minky furrowed her brow, thinking. As she never had the chance to even open a world atlas, she was drawing a blank. Hermione let herself fall back into her cot and rolled onto her side, scanning Minky.

"Well, it's a country in Southeast Europe, in the Balkan region. In the south it borders to Greece and in the west lies the Adriatic Sea. Its other neighbouring countries are Yugoslavia and Macedonia," Hermione informed, slipping back to her lecturing voice.

Minky already knew that kind of voice coming from Hermione and wasn't in the least bit offended by the know-it-all manner.

"Sounds nice," she replied lightly.

Hermione snorted in disbelief, "Yeah, it  _could_  be nice if I wouldn't have to travel with two wizards. They'll surely order me around non-stop."

Minky shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing new." Her eyes wandered to Hermione and she said cheerfully, "Maybe you can have a swim in the Adriatic Sea."

Hermione stared at her for a moment before she said colourlessly, "It's winter."

Minky chuckled amused. "Draco wouldn't let you have the fun anyway."

A frustrated groan left Hermione and she rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"I wish I could stay here," she sighed.

Minky looked at Hermione's gloomy appearance for a moment. Then a grin appeared on her face and she suggested,

"You know, Penny, while you are there you can try to go underground."

Hermione peered at her and furrowed her brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Minky leaned a bit closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Give them the slip. Draco'll never find you in  _Albania_. It's brilliant."

Hermione could only roll her eyes at the other. She raised her left arm and yanked up her sleeve, exposing her Dark Mark.

"Using that, I'm pretty sure Draco can find me."

Minky pouted for a moment. Then she said, "Aw well, it was just a thought."

A lopsided grin appeared on Hermione's face as she replied, "And a nice one. I grant you that."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **A narrow wind complains all day**

**How some one treated him;**

**Nature, like us, is sometimes caught**

**Without her Diadem.'**

**\- Emily Dickinson**

**(*1830** † **1886)**


	3. She neither Hears nor Sees

Riddle stepped into the green flames roaring in the fireplace and said smoothly,

"Rruga e Magjisë, Tirana."

Immediately he disappeared in a ball of green flames.  _Tirana, hm?_  Hermione wondered. Until now, she had had no idea where exactly in Albania they were going. She dragged a huge backpack with her as she stepped into the fireplace and cried the same destination Riddle had used, grateful that she had been able to remember the street's name.

Many miles away from Malfoy manor, Hermione stumbled out of another fireplace. It was one of many in a row. In front of the fireplaces people stood in long queues, waiting for their turn. A plump man in a dark blue uniform collected coins and gave out tickets in return. Obviously this was a public connection to the floo network. The building really looked a little like some kind of railway station, Hermione thought as she looked up at the domed ceiling.

The man in uniform stepped over to Riddle and Draco. Draco gave the man a few galleons. The man smiled friendly and accepted the money. Riddle turned and, without saying anything, purposefully strode over to the exit. Draco immediately trailed behind him. Neither Riddle nor Draco made any move to take care of their luggage.

 _Not that I'm surprised_ , Hermione thought dryly while eyeing the huge backpack in distaste. She tried to lift it, having preferred to drag it up to this point. It was quite heavy. She struggled for a moment but finally managed to tie it to her back. Not for the first time this day, Hermione cursed silently. Groaning softly, she hurried after Riddle and Draco. Both had already ventured a good distance and had reached the exit. As quickly as her cargo allowed, Hermione tried to close up to them and soon stepped out of the building. From the outside it looked like a run-down, abandoned factory and was left unnoticed by the passers-by on the pavement. Hermione stood in front of a rather large avenue which was heavily trafficked.

A few quick steps and she finally caught up to Riddle and Draco. Riddle still strode determinedly down the pavement. He obviously had a destination in mind and Draco seemed to be content with leaving the lead to Riddle. Either way, Hermione didn't really care. The straps of the heavy backpack cut painfully in her shoulders. She tried to ignore it and took in her surroundings. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had visited the Muggle part of any city. A small smile on her face, she watched the cars rushing by on the street.

There were a few other people walking on the same pavement and Hermione tried to avoid eye contact with them. They were probably all Muggles but she didn't want to risk annoying a wizard by her staring. With unease she noticed that some of the passers-by stared at her or pointed at her heavy backpack. One man even frowned and shook his head indignantly. It made Hermione feel insecure. A little while later she realized that those people weren't looking at her so disapprovingly but at Riddle and Draco. Obviously the other passers-by didn't understand why Hermione had to carry the huge backpack while her two male companions didn't help her.

Hermione smiled. Albania was a rather nice country, she decided. At the very least she liked the Muggle population.

†

A good solid fifteen minutes later, Riddle finally stopped. They stood in a rather small dirty alley right in front of a dingy old building. Hermione could spy a grime-covered sign over one of the house entrances: Bar.

"What?" Draco's appalled voice griped. "Why are we here, Tom?"

Riddle turned around to Draco. His face was its usual emotionless blank as he surveyed the other.

"Why? What's wrong?" he finally asked, forced calm in his voice.

Draco stared at Riddle as if he had sprouted an extra head. Then he whispered in disgust, "It's a  _Muggle_ bar."

Riddle looked at him with his piercing blue eyes. Then he shrugged and suggested in a bored tone,

"Well, I've some business to take care of. You can wait here if you want to."

Then he entered the building. For a second Draco stood there and stared at the Bar's entrance, trying to process how a wizard could willingly enter a Muggle pub. He turned his head and scanned the dirty backstreet. After a moment of inner struggle Draco finally stepped over the entrance to the pub. With an expression of a martyr on his face, he entered.

Hermione hesitated shortly but then followed Draco and stepped into the twilight of the pub. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud music played somewhere. The room was rather small but a lot of people sat around creaky old tables, drinking beer and talking loudly.

Hermione blinked, her eyes burning from the smoke, and she tried to make out Riddle and Draco. After a moment she spotted them. Riddle elegantly lounged at a table on the other side of the room. Draco just slipped into the bench opposite from him. Hermione quickly walked over to them. As she reached their table she placed the heavy backpack on the floor and remained standing, awaiting any possible orders. Draco completely ignored her and scanned the pub, disgust on his face. Riddle's piercing blue eyes fell on Hermione and he ordered calmly,

"Sit down."

Draco's eyes widened with indignation and he hissed, "She's a  _Mudblood_. She's certainly not sitting at a table with us."

Riddle turned his gaze at Draco. A sharp frown had appeared between his eyebrows and he said, anger hidden in his tone,

"This is a  _Muggle_  bar. I don't want people to get suspicious of us. Having her-" He gestured at Hermione. "-standing around like this won't help us keeping a low profile."

Seeing the irritation flitter across Riddle's face, Draco quickly submitted,

"Of course."

Hermione was dumbfounded by the authority Riddle doubtlessly had over her vain, big-headed master. She couldn't dwell on it longer as Riddle's smouldering eyes landed on her again and he stared at her expectantly. Instantly she slipped on the bench beside him. Head bent, Hermione sat at the edge of the bench as far away from Riddle as possible. She didn't want to anger him with her presence. Unfortunately the bench was rather small. Hermione couldn't help it but her leg brushed against Riddle's. Luckily, though, he didn't even seem to notice the contact. Instead Riddle was scanning the room, obviously searching for someone. Sure enough, it didn't take long and he waved someone over to their table. An old hunchbacked woman came slowly limping towards them. Her white hair stood unkempt from her head and her weather-beaten skin was lined deeply.

"Mirëdita," the old woman said as she reached the table.

Riddle inclined his head. "A good day to you, too."

Without having received an invitation the woman plopped into the seat beside Draco who eyed her suspiciously. The old woman ignored the blond but looked at Riddle curiously.

"So, you are that boy Frewin mentioned?" she finally asked.

"Yes, Madame," Riddle replied politely. "Mr. Runcorn recommended your expertise."

The old woman narrowed her eyes at Riddle, not impressed by his charm. Riddle just smiled disarmingly and waved over the barmaid. A woman with black wavy hair and a grey apron stepped over to them.

"Four beers, please."

The barmaid nodded shortly and hurried away with their order. While Riddle continued to small talk with the old lady Hermione could barely listen. Shock washed over her.

Had he just ordered  _four_  beers?

Soon later the barmaid came back to their table. Sure enough she carried four bottles on her tray, the golden emblem proclaiming them as 'Birra Korça'. The harassed looking barmaid placed the bottles in front of her four guests and Riddle quickly paid. Hermione sat stock-still on the bench and stared at the bottle in front of her. Had Riddle, a wizard, really bought something for  _her_? Slightly she turned her head and stared at him. He already took a sip from his bottle and smiled suavely as he talked with the old lady. It took Hermione some time to get over the shock of having been invited on a drink by a wizard. So, she had missed parts of the conversation by the time she dropped back in.

"-when she refused to come along. He gave in to his anger and struck her down with his knife," the old lady said, her enthusiasm not fitting to the sad nature of her story.

Obviously the beer had put her in a more talkative mood. The suspicious frown at disappeared from her wrinkled face as she took a deep swig from her bottle. Riddle toasted to her, an easy smile on his face. Despite the amiable lightness cheerfully hovering around him, Hermione couldn't help but notice that sharp glint in Riddle's blue eyes as he watched the old woman like a hawk.

The old lady put her bottle back on the table and continued her story, "As he came to himself and saw what he had done, he took his own life in remorse."

An attractive smile played around Riddle's lips as he inquired politely, "Did her mother ever retrieve Helena's body?"

The old lady cackled as she heard the question. Her eyes glinted amused and she obviously enjoyed Riddle's interest in her story.

"After Helena died her mother was devastated," the old woman explained happily and took another sip of beer. "Grief overwhelmed her at the loss of her only child. Still, there was guilt as well. Guilt because she had sent the baron after Helena. She blamed herself for her daughter's death."

The old lady giggled merrily and concluded, "Maybe it was the guilt that then stopped Rowena from ever visiting the resting place of her daughter."

Riddle raised his eyebrows innocently and asked, "So Rowena never went and took back the Diadem?"

The woman shook her head, her wiry grey hair dancing on her head. "No. She left her daughter's body and the Diadem, that had caused the whole tragedy, in peace. Still, while Rowena never set foot on that place, legend says that she spoke a powerful spell over it." The old woman looked at Riddle pointedly as she added, "That spell will break down on everyone who wants to disturb Helena's last resting place."

Riddle hummed in agreement. His blue eyes shone with harmless interest as he asked, "Do you know where that place is?"

A harsh laugh left the old lady and she replied, "If you intend to procure that Diadem, be warned others have tried before and no-one ever returned from that quest."

Riddle nodded. "Of course. But I still would like to see that place where history has been made." He blinked at the woman with huge eyes and said, honesty tinting his words, "I would never violate such a sacred place. I just want to visit it."

The old woman scanned him, a suspicious frown between her eyebrows. Then she cleared her throat before she said seriously,

"I don't know where you can find Helena's grave. No-one knows. There are just rumours, nothing more."

"Please," Riddle whispered gently. "If you know anything… anything at all, I would be delighted to hear."

His voice had been nothing more than a soft plea, still the old woman seemed to hesitate. Riddle leaned a bit forward in his seat and reached with a hand over the table. He gingerly grasped the woman's hand and looked her deep in the eyes as he said,

"I know how people crave for the power of Rowena's creation. But I swear that is not what's driving me towards this sad story. I want to see Helena's grave just to be a little closer to someone who has influenced history so much."

Riddle's hand pressed the old lady's as he stared at her urgently.

"Please."

If there had still been suspicion in the old woman's eyes, the last rest of it was now driven away by that completely innocent look in Riddle's blue eyes. She nodded slightly and whispered,

"It is true what I said. There are only rumours but I will tell you about them. Maybe they can help you."

There was a fond smile on the woman's face as she eyed Riddle and continued, "It was in a small village in the east, where I've heard the story about Zonja Gri… the Grey Lady. It was a small village that lay right at the edge of a huge forest. The people from the village never ventured very deep into that forest - especially not after nightfall. They say that the woods are haunted by a ghost. A woman, clad in a grey dress, wanders the forest at night. The woman is breathtakingly beautiful with shiny long hair and fair skin. Each night she wanders the forest and cries heartbreakingly. It is said that her tears can pull any man down into her grief. Driven into insanity the man will choose to kill himself to be able to escape the sorrow."

The woman nodded gravely and took another sip from her bottle. Riddle then asked hesitantly,

"Can you tell me how to get to that village?"

"The people living in the village were very poor," the woman said. "To escape their poverty many of them moved away, into bigger cities. Only the old stayed. As they died, the village disappeared with them."

She eyed Riddle for a moment before she suggested, "Do you have a map? I could show you where that village once stood."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

With a soft pop, Hermione appeared at the edge of a forest. Immediately her feet sunk into five inches of snow. Sneakily the cold already seeped through her thin shoes. She felt the hand releasing her shoulder from its tight grip. Hermione turned her head and peered up at Riddle. That had been the first time a wizard had taken her along in apparition and not the other way around. Hermione had no idea who Riddle was or what he even wanted here, but she had a strange feeling about him. He was an odd one, that was for sure.

Riddle neither paid her nor Draco any attention, instead he scanned the surroundings through narrowed eyes. Hermione looked around herself. The landscape was rough and wild. No-one was around here, the area completely uninhabited. They stood at the edge of a snow-covered forest. The woodland seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Only in the far distance Hermione could see rutted mountains, impressively towering over everything.

Hermione saw how Riddle clenched his hands into tight fists as he stared at the seemingly endless forest. Whatever his task was, it had got a lot more difficult right now, hadn't it? Hermione wondered what he wanted from that Helena person the old woman in the bar had mentioned. Somehow she doubted that Riddle really only wanted to visit a grave here. Finally Riddle averted his eyes from the endless forest. Hermione stiffened as his frosty eyes came to land on her.

"Set up the tent," he ordered her sharply.

Hermione quickly bowed her head. "Yes, Master Riddle."

"Wait," Draco said as Riddle pulled his wand, preparing to apparate. "Where are you going?"

Riddle glared at him in annoyance but still replied curtly, "To Baldreti."

Draco furrowed his brow. "What's that?"

Riddle rolled his eyes and snapped, "A village, if you must know."

"And what do you want there?" Draco asked cautiously, trying not to anger the other anymore.

Riddle's gaze wandered back to the seemingly endless woodland. As he replied, doubt laced his words as if he already knew the excursion would be fruitless,

"Information."

"Okay," Draco conceded and stepped over to Riddle. "I'll accompany you."

Riddle furrowed his brow in exacerbation but before he could snap anything, Draco obviated submissively,

"I'm only here to help."

Hermione couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in disbelief as she heard that uncharacteristic sentence fall from his mouth. Fortunately for her, Draco didn't notice the scepticism displayed on her face. Riddle, though, did. Hermione hastily rearranged her features into a polite mask. For a second, in which she was too afraid to even breathe, Riddle's piercing eyes stayed on her. Then his hard gaze left her and Hermione released a long breath of air.

"Then get moving," Riddle ordered, waving Draco over to him.

A triumphant glint in Draco's eyes, he stepped over to Riddle. Riddle impatiently grabbed the other's forearm. A swirl of his black cloak and Hermione was left behind alone. For a moment she only stared into the forest's undergrowth and Minky's words echoed through her head.

' _Give them the slip.'_

A soft chuckle left Hermione. How very tempting. She could just wander into the woods and would never been heard of again. A heavy sigh left her. Then Hermione wrenched the huge backpack from her back and opened it. It would have to remain a dream, Hermione thought sadly as she tugged the tent from the backpack. She could almost feel the ugly mark on der left forearm burning threateningly. Even amidst this beautiful wilderness she still was a prisoner.

Quickly Hermione unpacked the tent and then began to set it up. A cold wind relentlessly tugged at her and she shivered miserably. Her hands had already turned red from the cold and hurt as she tied down the ropes that held the small tent in place. A sigh left her as Hermione threw a last longing glance at the endless forest. Then she grabbed the backpack and wrenched it into the tent. Interestedly she scanned the tent's interior. Of course it was a magical tent and the room she found inside was impossibly spacious. In front of a fireplace at one side of the room, was a sitting area with a couch and lush armchairs. On the opposite side on a little dais stood two beds, the space divided by thick curtains. Hermione pulled the backpack further into the room as she let her eyes wander. There was a small kitchenette right beside the entrance, complete with cupboards, cooker and sink.

As the two wizards were still no-where to be seen, Hermione investigated the tent some more. She found a generous stock of foods stored away in the cupboard of the kitchenette. Hermione strolled away from the kitchenette and over to the sitting area. She pulled her bright-red, capped wand and waved it at the fireplace, intending to lit a fire. As always the stupid wand was reluctant to let her magic pass. Hermione had to wave it a few times before it obeyed and sparked a small fire. Frustrated, she turned away and spotted a door. Hermione opened it and found a small bathroom with a little shower cabin. She sighed as she closed the door and again let her eyes wander over the room. This was like a one-room apartment. Hermione didn't look forward to live here for Merlin knew how long with two wizards and no room to escape them.

Listlessly she carried the backpack over to the two beds and started to unpack Draco's things. She un-shrank his belongings and carefully stored his clothes away in the wardrobe, standing right beside one of the beds. After that she took the black bag, containing Riddle's things, and un-shrank it. Just as she put the bag down on his bed a book slipped from it and landed with a soft thud on the floor. Hermione blinked down at the book and curiosity started to tug at her.

Cautiously she edged closer to that book. Hermione hesitantly stooped down and let her fingers skim over the book's spine. A small smile appeared on her face as she felt that rush of excitement she always experienced when she touched an unknown book. Nervously she turned her head. Draco and Riddle were still no-where to be seen. Hermione worried her lower lip and stared back at the book. Could she dare to risk a short peek? Slowly her fingers clasped the book and she picked it up. It was a thick tome, bound in black leather. The pages were gilded and the title was written in the same gold colour: Conditoribus.

' _To the founders'_ , Hermione mused.  _Founders? What founders?_

There was only one way to get an answer to that question, so Hermione opened the book. It didn't have any table of contents but its pages were lettered in a beautiful calligraphy. Doubtlessly the book was very old and probably very valuable, too. Hermione gingerly turned the page, still enchanted by the delicate craftsmanship. A soft gasp left her as she looked at the next page. There was an image, drawn by a very talented hand. Somehow magic must have been used to enhance the picture as it radiated a serene glow. A golden cup was shown on the picture. On the cup the artist had depicted an animal. It looked like a racoon… or maybe a badger. Hermione couldn't tell. Driven by her curiosity, she started to read what was written below the image but suddenly a deep voice cut through the silence of the tent,

"Is it a good read?"

Hermione gasped softly. Quickly she snapped the book shut and put it on the bedside table with trembling hands. Then she turned around. Hermione's heart clenched in fear as she saw Riddle, casually leaned against the doorframe. His face was completely expressionless, but for an inquiringly arched eyebrow. Draco was no-where to be seen, Hermione noticed. Probably lost in his abysmal Apparation abilities. Feeling Riddle's gaze on herself, Hermione stumbled a step away from the book. Fear built up quickly as Riddle's icy blue eyes cut into her.

"I… I just wanted to… clean up, Master Riddle," Hermione stuttered weakly, hoping that he would buy the excuse.

To her utter surprise dark amusement lit up Riddle's eyes as he heard her. He pushed away from the doorframe and slowly walked over to her. A shuddered breath escaped Hermione's lips and she quickly lowered her head. She didn't dare to move as Riddle stopped beside her and took the book from the table. He easily flipped through the pages. Then he asked lightly, doubt seeping through his voice,

"Can you even read?"

Fear still coursed through her but Hermione timidly raised her face at him. Riddle scanned her interestedly. She considered lying, but found that she couldn't open her mouth and proclaim that indeed she was an illiterate.

"Y- yes, Master Riddle," Hermione replied softly.

Riddle's incredibly blue eyes slowly wandered over her and Hermione had to stop herself from shying away from that intense scrutiny.

"Really?" he said sceptically. "And where did you learn it?"

He looked at her as if he thought she were incapable of learning anything at all. Hermione replied in a soft voice,

"In school, Master Riddle."

"I see." He placed the book back on the side-table and remarked condescendingly, "In a  _Muggle_  school I assume."

"Yes," Hermione whispered cautiously.

Riddle flicked his blue eyes back at her and he tilted his head quizzically. "How many years did you go to school?"

"Four years, Master Riddle," Hermione replied dutifully, keeping the sadness from her voice.

"Only four years? And in a  _Muggle_  school?" Riddle sneered disdainfully. He gestured to the book and told her coldly, "Someone like you will never understand the theory behind books like this. It's pathetic that you even tried."

Hermione's eyes widened as she was hit with the conviction behind his words. Normally statements like that didn't faze her at all. So she was surprised that Riddle's contempt made anger well up inside her. Hermione had her eyes downcast as she replied exactly how it was expected from her,

"You are right, Master Riddle. I shouldn't have touched the book. I am sorry."

The words left Hermione with a filthy feeling creeping over her. She gritted her teeth and stared down at her shoes. Riddle didn't reply anything but suddenly there were two fingers under her chin, tilting her face up. Hermione's heart raced in her chest as Riddle forced her to look at him. His pale face was an unreadable mask as his blue eyes slowly wandered over her, making her feel horribly exposed. Fear painfully pounded through Hermione and she wanted to cower away from Riddle. His cold eyes locked with hers and she trembled as she saw an odd gleam threateningly glowing in them. Completely intimidated by him, Hermione didn't dare to move as Riddle's fingers left her chin and gently skimmed down her neck. His fingers still softly touched her as suddenly a cruel smirk curled Riddle's lips. He opened his mouth and whispered, malice dripping from his voice,

"You  _should_  be sorry, little Mudblood. The next time I see you touching my things with your dirty fingers, I will make you regret it."

Suddenly Riddle's hand brutally closed around her throat and a fearful whimper left Hermione. His fingers cruelly choked her and she helplessly struggled for air. Riddle bent down to her and Hermione could feel his breath playing over her skin as he whispered into her ear, his voice deathly cold,

"Did I make myself clear, Mudblood?"

Hermione could barely breathe and fear curled vice-like around her chest. As Riddle's hand threateningly tightened again, she tried to press out hoarsely,

"Y- yes… Master Riddle…."

With that he released Hermione and she gasped for air, her hands holding her aching neck. Riddle didn't say any more but grabbed the book and swept away. He gracefully sat down on the couch at the other side of the room and started to read, his face an impenetrable mask. Nothing indicated that he had just uttered a death threat.

Hermione, left to her own devices, stood where he had left her. Her whole body trembled and she could still feel where his hand had clenched around her throat. His cold voice echoed through her head, making fear consume her completely. _'I will make you regret it.'_  Hermione didn't doubt for a second that he would. Not even Lucius Malfoy had ever managed to throw her in such a panic.

It was then that the door was ripped open and Draco stepped into the tent, bringing with him a gush of cold wind,

"Damn," he cursed.

Hermione, still trapped in her fear, slightly turned her head and looked at Draco. Twigs were tousled in his blond hair and his shoes and pants were soaking wet from molten snow. He obviously had missed his destination and had apparated wrongly. There was a sour look on Draco's face as he stomped into the tent. Hermione cringed as she saw the dirt he was scattering on the floor. It seemed she would have to scrub the floor later. Draco shrugged off his wet cloak and carelessly tossed it at Hermione.

"Clean that!" he ordered her roughly.

"Yes, Master," Hermione quickly replied.

She still felt quite shaky and carefully folded the cloak that now managed to drip water on her own clothes. Draco narrowed his eyes at her and snapped curtly,

"And make something for dinner. I'm starving."

Hermione bowed her head obediently. Draco didn't say anymore but stalked over to the bathroom, continuing to curse under his breath. An evil grin appeared on Riddle's face and he suggested, sweet venom in his voice,

"You should have paid more attention during the Apparition lessons. Now stop making such a racket, I'm trying to read."

Draco didn't reply anything but entered the bathroom. Shortly later the shower could be heard running. Hermione avoided to look in Riddle's direction as she walked over to the kitchenette where she started to prepare dinner.

Sometime later, Hermione stirred a merrily boiling vegetable stew, Draco re-emerged from the bathroom. She shortly glanced at him and found that he didn't look like a wet ferret anymore. Ruffling his still damp hair, Draco stalked over to her and Hermione quickly averted her eyes.

"What is  _that_  supposed to be?" Draco asked in disgust as he eyed the stew Hermione was cooking.

"Dinner, Master," she stated the obvious.

Draco wrinkled his nose. Hermione thought it was a perfectly fine stew, but she knew how spoilt Draco was. Obviously Riddle wasn't as choosy when it came to food as he had been the one who had stocked the supplies. Cautiously Hermione glanced at him. Riddle was still sitting on the couch and read his book. She shuddered as her eyes wandered over him.

†

Hermione tried to ignore her angrily rumbling stomach. The stew was gone. In the end, Draco hadn't seemed to mind it too much and had wolfed it down. Neither him nor Riddle had thought to leave anything for Hermione. In Malfoy manor that had never been a huge problem. Although food was scarce, Hermione and Minky had always managed to steal enough in the kitchen. Sadly enough, Hermione couldn't risk snitching food here. It was too high a risk in the close space of the tent. Draco or, even worse, Riddle might notice when something was missing.

The tent was dived in darkness and Hermione could hear the soft breathing coming from its other two occupants. She already hated the tent. There wasn't even a place for her to sleep. Not even the smallest of cots nor any blankets. Quietly, as to avoid waking the others, Hermione passed the kitchenette and tiptoed to the corner on its right. A small rug lay there on the floor. Tiredly Hermione sank down on the rug. She wrapped her thin black robe tightly around herself, and curled into a ball. Her stomach still rumbled, the floor was unbearably cold, even with the rug, and her neck hurt, probably bruised.

 _Maybe I shouldn't rule out Minky's insane escape plan_ , Hermione thought dryly.  _It can't possibly get any worse._

Cursing silently, she pulled the little encyclopaedia of charms out of her robe pocket and opened it. Unfortunately, it was so dark in the tent, she could not decipher a single word.  _Damn!_

Hermione never thought the day would come but she somehow missed Malfoy manor.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**No motion has she now, no force;**

**She neither hears nor sees;**

**Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course,**

**With rocks, and stones, and trees.**

**\- William Wordsworth**

( ***1770 †1850)**


	4. And Come to Dust

Hermione fell into a dreadful routine over the next few days. She would get up early, which wasn't that difficult as her sleeping place curled up beside the kitchenette, wasn't that comfortable anyway. Then Hermione would light a fire in the fireplace to raise the temperature in the tent before she would start to prepare breakfast.

An hour after Hermione, Riddle would wake. He obviously was an early riser. Hermione carefully stayed out of his way. The memory of his hands around her neck was still fresh in her mind. Luckily, Riddle never stayed in the tent for long. Immediately after breakfast he would leave. Where to? Hermione didn't know. He was probably out in the forest trying to find that grave the woman back in Tirana had spoken about. Whenever Riddle returned to the tent, he wouldn't speak much. He ate in silence while sitting by the fireplace, his nose stuck in that book of his.

Riddle was certainly intimidating, but due to his constant presence Draco was the larger problem for Hermione. He was horrible to have around in the first place, but here, in the confined space of the tent, he was downright unbearable. As the days went by Draco's mood dropped to freezing point and Hermione was the one who had to suffer from it. Draco was obviously not content with Riddle's secretiveness. He had probably thought something exciting would happen during this trip and was sorely disappointed. Riddle excluded the other from his plans and it frustrated Draco. Of course he would vent his foul temper on Hermione.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione suppressed a tired sigh as she made the beds. After that she had to give the living room a quick sweep before she intended to clean the bathroom. Carefully she spread the duvet over Draco's bed and stuck the edges under the mattress. With that done, she went to get the broom and threw an inconspicuous glance at Draco. He sat, morose expression on his face, in front of the fireplace and flipped through a magazine.

Hermione liked to think it was Witch Weekly.

While she swept the floor, she was very aware of Draco's presence. A deep scowl on his face, there seemed to be a cloud of annoyance hovering around him. As grotesque as it was, Hermione wished Riddle would come back soon. At least that would distract Draco a bit and he wouldn't sit there on the couch like a time bomb about to explode …in her direction.

It wasn't even ten minutes later that Draco angrily threw his magazine on the side table. Hermione flinched and her hands tightened around the broomstick. Abruptly Draco got up from the couch.

"Screw this!"

Cursing loudly he stomped over to the kitchenette where he proceeded to angrily yank open the cupboards and dig about. A carton of eggs landed on the floor, making a mess. Draco didn't care but continued to search around, getting more and more annoyed as he obviously didn't find what he was searching for. Finally he gave up. Angry snarl on his face, Draco turned to Hermione and snapped,

"You!"

She quickly bowed her head. "Yes, Master?"

"Where's the booze?"

"…er…" Hermione mumbled weakly. "I- I'm sorry, but I don't think there is any, Master."

Draco didn't reply, only the expression on his face got even darker. After a moment, he reached for Hermione and gruffly clutched her arm. Then he wrenched her over to the exit door. He tore the door open and abruptly shoved Hermione outside. The harsh winter air ripped at her as she stood on the threshold, peering up at Draco. He glared down at her and growled,

"Get me something to drink. Firewhiskey preferably."

With that he shut the door in Hermione's face and she was left standing outside the tent, the cold wind howling around her. She turned around and eyed the snow covered forest before her in distaste.

_Great…_

How was she to find something to drink? Shortly Hermione considered apparating back to Tirana. Unfortunately, though, the floo network building was warded by anti-apparition spells and she couldn't very well apparate inside of Muggle Tirana. That was all she had seen of Albania so far and apparating to somewhere without a clear destination in mind didn't work. She had no other choice but to search for some kind of… of  _human settlement_  on foot.

"Damn it to hell," Hermione whispered angrily.

She wrapped her robe tightly around herself and stomped through the snow. She left the forest edge behind her and walked downhill. Hopefully she would hit a road soon.

For at least half an hour, Hermione had wandered aimlessly through the snow-covered Albanian landscape. She had to stop as a steep mountain slope barred her way. From here, she had a perfect view over the remote land. Stretches of forest and rocky terrain alternated with snowy planes. Then she spotted a disturbance in the landscape. She squinted her eyes. Yes, if she cocked her head a little to the side that looked like some kind of street down there in the valley.

Hermione had no idea how many miles that potential street was away. If she had to walk, she would probably need a few days. As Hermione didn't want to return empty handed to Draco, she pulled her red wand. This time her destination was lying clearly in front of her. So, Hermione just crossed her fingers and hoped that no Muggle would see her arriving before she twirled on the spot, aiming for a small grove near the street.

†

Indeed it had been a street. Moodily, Hermione walked down the two lane country road, which snaked itself through the landscape, flanked by trees and the occasional farm house. If Hermione was lucky, she would hit some kind of petrol station and could buy something to drink.

_Although, it is a Sunday…_

Hermione pulled her thin robes tighter around herself, shivering. It was cold and the ground was wet and muddy. Now and then a car drove by and she had to watch out not to get hit. She realized in annoyance that Draco hadn't even given her any money. Neither Muggle nor wizarding. Did he expect her to rob someone? Hermione turned around and eyed the way she had come from. With how things went so far, it was more probable that  _she_  was the one getting robbed.

 _Good luck, robbers_ , Hermione thought wryly.

Just as she thought that, an old red Dacia liberta pulled up right beside her. A man cranked down the car window and scanned her. He was middle aged, a tad bit on the chubby side and a large moustache sat over his upper lip. His gaze slowly wandered over Hermione's black robes and her thin dress. He furrowed his brow as he took her appearance in.

"A keni nevojë për ndihmë?" the man asked, sounding concerned.

Hermione just stared at him, not understanding a word. As she didn't reply anything, he said worriedly,

"Mund të më kuptoni?"

He continued to eye her and Hermione felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Çfarë ka, goca?" another, female, voice came from the car.

The man turned around and replied, "Nuk e di."

With that the passenger door of the car was opened. A small plump woman got out from the car. Her slightly grey hair was put up in a messy bun and her face looked quite kind with laughing lines around her eyes. Though right now, worry was etched into her features as she took in Hermione's appearance. The woman wrapped a comforting arm around Hermione's trembling shoulders.

"A jeni mirë, e dashur?" she asked soothingly.

The woman's gentle touch made Hermione's heart clench painfully with strange emotion. As she didn't reply anything, the woman turned and said something to the man in the car. He got out as well and stepped over to Hermione.

"Çfarë të ndodhi?" He pressed a pack of cookies in her hand. "Ju dukeni ë uritur."

Hermione just blinked at him.

"Ne nuk mund ta lëjmë këtu," the woman told the man worriedly. "Ajo është në gjendje të vështirë."

The man nodded severely. Hermione still didn't understand a word. As the woman started to pull her over to the car, Hermione simply panicked. What did they want with her? She couldn't stay, Draco expected her back. With that Hermione ripped herself free of the woman's gentle grip and raced away. The woman yelled something,

"Prisni! Ne vetëm duan të ndihmojnë!"

Hermione never stopped. Her heart was thundering away in her chest. Quickly she dived behind a tree before she dared to apparate away. There was only one place she could apparate to, so it wasn't long and Hermione stood at the entrance to the tent, breathing fast. She still held that pack of cookies in her hands and the woman's kind touch lingered on her skin. Unfamiliar in its gentleness. It made her chest constrict painfully. Pulse still quickened, Hermione stared at the tent's entrance. She had failed to accomplish her task! Fearfully Hermione opened the entrance. The moment she entered the tent, Draco rounded on her.

"Where the  _fuck_  have you been?"

"I- I-" Hermione mumbled as she peered up at his irate face.

Fury glimmering in his eyes, Draco's gaze wandered over her. As he didn't find the expected bottle a growl left him. He violently ripped the pack of cookies from Hermione. Draco glared at the cookies then he angrily threw them at the floor.

"So this-" Draco gestured at the pack of cookies with disgust written all over his face. "-is all you managed to find? Some god-awful  _Muggle_  food?"

Hermione cowered before him. Her head was bowed and she didn't dare look up.

"I- I'm sorry, Ma-"

She wasn't able to finish as Draco's hand collided with her face and left behind a stinging pain on her cheek.

"I ordered you to get me something to drink!" She flinched as Draco yelled at her furiously.

"Please, Master," Hermione whispered with a trembling voice. "I couldn't find anything. I really tried."

Draco's eyes narrowed into angry slits as they wandered over her. Hermione wanted to take a step away from him but she knew well enough it would only worsen her situation.

"I can't believe you really dared to return empty-handed," Draco hissed.

He kicked at the pack of cookies, making Hermione cringe in fright.

"I gave you an order, Penny!" Draco snarled, his voice shaking with his fury. "How dare you disobey?"

Hermione trembled all over as she peered up at his face. It was twisted by his anger.

"I would never… never disobey you," she hastily stuttered. "Please, I'm sorry. I tried my be-"

Again Hermione was interrupted. This time, though, Draco's hand was balled into a fist as it collided with her face. She cried in pain as she was flung down on the floor. A metallic taste in her mouth, Hermione felt blood running from the corner of her mouth. Her whole jaw ached horribly and she had to bite back her sobs.

"Lazy Mudblood!" Draco spat at her crumbled form hatefully.

He kicked her in the side, forcing a muffled moan from her. Then he just walked away. Hermione waited a few seconds before she dared to sit up. Her whole body shook and she still felt the blood running from her mouth. Raising a trembling hand, she wiped the blood away. Cautiously as not to draw attention to her, she scanned the room. Draco had flopped down on the couch and angrily flipped through his magazine. Hermione slowly tried to get up from the floor. Her side hurt a bit where he had kicked her and her jaw throbbed painfully, but it wasn't that bad. Hermione wiped the last rest of the blood from her face, then she limped over to the kitchenette where she started to prepare dinner.

†

Riddle raised his wand and brandished it. Bluish glowing runes appeared, hovering in the air. Another wave and the runes flew away. Riddle's cold eyes followed them until they disappeared between the trees. A sinister smile stretched his lips as he felt the runes humming strongly. Yes, Helena's last resting place was near-by. Riddle could feel Ravenclaw's magic reverberating in his runes.

He swirled his wand and the rune magic broke down. Raising his head, Riddle looked at the sky. The weak winter sun already disappeared behind the tree tops. Night was falling early at this time of the year. Riddle cursed under his breath. He would have to continue his search tomorrow. Ravenclaw's wards would be strengthened by the moon's presence, like all wards meant to hide or protect. They would grow stronger until they reached their height at witching hour.

 _A pity_ , Riddle thought as he let his eyes wander over the vicinity. He could almost smell the ancient magic in the air and itched to break it. Now that he had narrowed down its location, he would find the grave within the next days.

A dark snicker left Riddle. He grabbed his wand tightly and swirled on the spot. A few seconds of the dark pressure of apparition and he found himself standing right in front of the tent. Warm light was streaming from the entrance and softly fell on the snow. Riddle shivered slightly, only now realizing how very cold it was. He stepped over to the entrance and stomped his feet, freeing his boots from ice and snow, before he entered the tent. Soothing warmth hit him, almost making him sigh with relief. He shrugged his warm winter cloak from his shoulders, his thoughts still circling around all the possible protections that Ravenclaw could have used.

Before he could throw his cloak over the coat hook, the Mudblood appeared by his side and accepted the cloak from him. Riddle sneered in disgust down at the creature. He still wasn't used to have a Mudblood around and, frankly, the girl annoyed him greatly. After she carefully put his cloak away, the Mudblood threw him a frightened glance. Seeing the scowl on his face, she quickly hurried away.

 _All the better_ , Riddle thought irritably and stepped further into the room. His cold eyes landed on Draco. The other lounged on the sofa, flipping through a magazine, but now looked up.

"Tom, you are back late. Where have you been?"

Riddle narrowed his eyes as he heard the challenging tint in the other's voice. Despite how much the Mudblood's presence irked him, Draco was a lot worse with his constant nagging and nosiness.

"I don't think that's any of your concern," Riddle said, threat barely concealed.

Defiance burned up in Draco's eyes but then he seemed to remember whom he was talking with and acquiesced,

"No, of course not."

Riddle sneered at him. He regretted having taken Draco along. If it hadn't been for Draco's offer to pay for everything, Riddle would have never considered it. Sadly enough, using the floo for international travels was ridiculously expensive. A wave of anger hit Riddle as he was reminded of the pitifully small amount of gold which lay in his own vault at Gringotts'. It was an utter scandal that he, the  _Heir of Slytherin_ , had to accept charity from a Malfoy.

Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, Riddle walked over to the kitchenette where the Mudblood was busy with making dinner. A cruel smile twisted up Riddle's lips as she fearfully shied away from him.

_Useless creature._

He could see her trembling slightly as she stood before him, head bent. Riddle's hand twitched, tempted to pull his wand and give the Mudblood a real reason to tremble. He abstained, though. Still feeling chilled from the cold outside, Riddle ordered sharply,

"Make some tea."

Immediately the Mudblood bowed and whispered, "Right away, Master Riddle."

She turned and quickly rummaged through the cupboard, producing a box with tea leaves. Riddle lazily leaned against the counter and watched absentmindedly as the Mudblood waved her bright red wand to get the water boiling. She needed to repeat the spell a few times until it really worked. Riddle sneered disdainfully. That stupid Mudblood wasn't even able to perform the simplest of spells. Disgust crept over him as he observed the Mudblood putting the tea leaves in a pot, her hands shaking. Something like  _her_  had really dared to touch the Founders' book? That book was a lot more valuable than her miserable life. Riddle shook his head as he remembered her declaration of being able to read. He doubted it. She could probably spell her own name and that was about it.

 _Just stupidly stared at the pictures in the book_ , Riddle thought mockingly and a dark smirk curled his lips.

"Your tea, Master Riddle."

Riddle looked down at the Mudblood who offered him a cup on a saucer. Now that she stood in front of him, he indifferently noted that there was a dark bruise on her jaw. He accepted the cup before he sauntered over to the sitting area, not paying the Mudblood any more thought.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was the evening of the next day that Draco finally lost his temper. Hermione had seen the signs and known it was only a matter of time. She stood a little away from the sitting area and silently watched the two wizards.

"How long are we going to stay here?" Draco asked while he scanned Riddle.

Hermione could hear the demanding tinge in his voice, though Draco tried to hide it. Riddle shrugged dismissively.

"A few days."

"A few days?" Draco echoed, looking far from content.

Riddle had just returned from one of his mysterious excursions. Still, he hadn't told Draco a thing about the purpose of this journey. The whole day Hermione had watched Draco's anger build. Now he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

"Are you intending to just leave me in the dark about why exactly we are here?" Draco accused mordantly.

Riddle eyed the other's anger with interest, a small smirk curling his lips. Then he said calmly,

"Yes."

Draco bristled at the answer. Hermione could see the beginning of a temper tantrum. She was surprised that Draco could still hold himself back, but then again he always seemed to be afraid of Riddle. Well, she couldn't blame him for that, Hermione decided as she looked at the vile amusement flashing in Riddle's blue eyes.

"And you expect me to what?" Draco said through angrily clenched teeth. "Sit here and twiddle my thumbs?"

Riddle put his book down beside him on the couch before he lazily leaned back. The vicious smirk never left him as he said, harsh scorn hidden beneath silk,

"If I might suggest, you could revise for Transfiguration. I remember McGonagall being quite…  _upset_  with your performance during last class."

Hermione could practically see the anger radiating from Draco. "What the hell are you doing out there in the forest the whole day?"

Riddle just sat there, clearly amused by the other's lost temper and replied indifferently,

"Quite haughty of you to think I would confide in you, isn't it?"

Draco's face twisted into a snarl and he hissed scathingly, "So you dragged me to the middle of no-where for nothing?"

"No," Riddle replied, his controlled voice a complete contrast to Draco's. "I didn't  _drag_  you anywhere. You followed me like a lost puppy."

The smirk on Riddle's mouth widened into a mocking smile. Draco, temper flown out of the window, sprang up from the armchair.

"You know what?" he thundered. "I'm leaving!"

"By all means do," Riddle drawled loftily. "I'm certainly not holding you back."

The blond huffed irately while malicious amusement burned in Riddle's eyes.

"It's not like I wouldn't have anything better to do," Draco hissed, clearly fighting to keep himself from yelling and raging at Riddle. "I don't need to waste my time here."

'… _waste my time with you.'_ hung in the air and finally the twisted amusement dropped from Riddle. A dangerous, dark expression took over. Suddenly his gaze seemed to be frozen over.

"You know, Malfoy." Riddle's velvety voice was now deathly cold. "I have half a mind to curse you now."

The hidden cruelly in Riddle's smooth voice made chills darting down Hermione's spine. Draco stiffened. Riddle's eyes glinted demonically as he scanned the other. Then he opened his mouth and whispered, sweet venom dripping from his words,

"Just last week I found this new spell and I've simply been  _dying_  to try it."

Draco blanched, all signs of anger having been replaced by fear. A frightening hunger warped Riddle's features as he stared at the blond. He looked like a predator, contemplating just how best to deal the deathblow.

"That spell latches on the victim's skin-" Riddle's voice was sickeningly sweet. "-and then melts it from the body. Quite the interesting concept, wouldn't you agree?"

Draco's eyes widened, fear wrapping around him mercilessly and he spluttered frantically,

"Y- yes… interesting. Hm…" He took a nervous step away from Riddle. "You know, actually… As tomorrow is Christmas, I kinda need to return home anyway… you know the dinner party my parents throw… Can't miss that."

Draco didn't even dare to make eye contact with Riddle as he continued,

"If you don't mind… I'll just leave you alone then. I don't want to disturb you any longer."

Riddle's eyes glinted with perverse amusement as he heard the other's fearful stutter.

"That would be appreciated," he said smilingly, his bland voice colliding with the dark threat in his frosty blue eyes.

With that he turned back to his book and paid no heed to Draco anymore. Hermione saw the blond releasing a breath of air. His hands shook as he walked over to his bed. Hastily, he pulled his clothes from the wardrobe and stuffed them into his bag. It didn't take him more than five minutes and he zipped his bag closed. With a last fearful glance at Riddle Draco quickly walked over to the fireplace, threw a handful of floo powder into it and stepped into the green flames.

"Rruga e Magjisë, Tirana," Draco whispered and disappeared from the tent.

Hermione stood stock still and watched with wide eyes as the green flames slowly turned back to orange.

Draco had left her here. With Riddle.

Hermione gulped as she looked at the wizard. He sat there on the sofa with his book in lap and looked like nothing had happened. What was  _wrong_  with the guy? One second he was dealing out death threats and the next he looked completely  _innocent_. Hermione wished Draco had taken her along. As much as she detested the blond, at least he wasn't insane. Hermione shuffled nervously while she stared at Riddle. He was scaring her and she didn't want to be left alone with him.

Hermione didn't know how long Riddle read in his book. It felt like hours. During the time, she wondered miserably what was going to happen to her now. One of the scenarios she came up with included Riddle using that skin melting curse on her before he uncaringly dumped her dying body in the forest where it would rot. By far it was not the worst scenario she could come up with.

So as, finally, Riddle closed his book and got up from the couch, Hermione flinched fearfully. Seeing the movement, his steely blue eyes fell on her. Instantly a dangerous frown appeared on Riddle's face.

"You are still here," he commented coldly.

Hermione inclined her head and whispered shyly, "Yes, Master Riddle."

"Didn't you want to accompany Draco?"

"I… I think Master forgot me here," she told him frankly.

Her explanation was met with a scornful snicker. "He left you, did he?"

"Yes, Master Riddle."

Hermione peered at him. Riddle didn't look overly delighted with this turn of events. A completely mutual sentiment.

"Well," Riddle sighed. "Seems you have to stay with me then."

_Oh, joy._

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione stood in front of the kitchenette, a spatula in one hand and her red wand in the other, while she fried sausages for breakfast. Probably for the hundredth time within the last five minutes, she had to renew the heating charm. Hermione angrily waved her red wand, inwardly cursing its insufficiency. Even the simplest of spells were hard to channel through the recalcitrant wand. Carefully Hermione turned the sausages with the spatula, not daring to use two spells at the same time.

_Useless wand might explode._

Hermione sighed softly. Although, really, she shouldn't complain. Surprisingly, living with Riddle wasn't as hellish as she had previously thought. True, he still treated her like vermin and she was horribly scared of him, but at least Riddle was gone for the most part of the day. As Draco wasn't there anymore, for those hours Hermione had the tent all to herself. Yesterday, she had even been bold enough to step into the bathroom and take a long hot shower. Quite the difference from her usual quick wash over the sink. A small smile flittered over Hermione's face and she subconsciously ran a hand through her soft hair. With Draco away, Hermione's workload was almost non-existent. She had nothing much to do besides cooking and occasionally cleaning. The rest of the time she had at her own disposal.

It had taken only two days and Hermione was bored out of her mind.

Wrinkling her nose, she placed the fried sausages on a plate and put them on the table before she fetched a pot of tea. Her little encyclopaedia of charms was no help against her boredom. She knew that book off by heart. Hermione was sorely tempted to try reading in Riddle's book again, but she was afraid he had woven wards over it.

The door to the bathroom opened and Hermione stiffened slightly as Riddle emerged. His thick black hair was slightly damp, a few stray wisps falling softly in his eyes. As usual, he looked quite sleek, wearing jeans and a dark blue jumper. Hermione averted her eyes from him and hurriedly placed a plate with fried egg on the table, before she took a step back. Riddle seemed to be deep in thought as he walked over to the table. Hermione shuddered slightly as he passed her. A wave of his scent hit her. He smelled quite pleasant. It was a mixture of shower gel and his cologne, unobtrusive and yet distinctly masculine.

"Get me some water," Riddle ordered harshly.

However handsome he looked, as soon as he opened his mouth the image was quickly destroyed.  _Like with all wizards_ , Hermione thought, hurriedly fetched him a glass of water and placed it in front of him on the table. While Riddle ate, she wondered what she would do with the rest of the day. Only now did she really appreciate her luck to be able to sneak into the Malfoys' library.

Hermione gnawed at her lower lip, while she watched Riddle. However sad it was, at the moment he was her only source of distraction. Hermione wondered what the wizard did whenever he left the tent. He was gone for hours at times. Was he still trying to find the grave of the mysterious Helena? If so, why did he want to see the grave? Was she someone Riddle knew? A family member? But then why was she buried in the middle of no-where in a forest?

Familiar curiosity was building up in Hermione. It was the same feeling whenever she opened a new book. The curiosity would not leave her again until she had finished the book and solved all its mysteries.

Hermione watched as Riddle stood from his place and fetched his warm winter cloak. She still gnawed her lip nervously as he, without another word, opened the door and stepped out of the tent. Destructive curiosity mounted up in Hermione and as it reached another peak, a frustrated growl left her.

What was he  _doing_  out there?

Not for the first time, curiosity won over instinct of self-preservation. Hermione knew it was a stupid idea, but she couldn't help it. She wrapped her thin black robe tightly around herself and stepped out of the tent. For once, the winter sun was not hidden behind grey clouds and shone down on her. Riddle was already gone but Hermione grinned down at the track he had left behind in the snow.

She followed the foot prints for a few metres until they abruptly ended. Obviously, Riddle had apparated. It wouldn't stop her though. Hermione pulled her red wand. Sure it was barely more than a stick of wood, but she could use it to apparate. Even more, it enabled her to always be able to apparate to her master's side. Admittedly, Draco wasn't around, but if Hermione tried hard enough, she was able to detect other wizards or witches around her. So, as she concentrated, she could feel a faint source of magic. Hermione smiled. It  _had_  to be Riddle.

Driven by her curiosity, Hermione swirled on the spot. She reappeared in the middle of the thick forest. Deliberately, she had apparated to a spot a bit away from Riddle. She didn't need him to see her. Cautiously, she began to wander into the forest, searching for Riddle. He had to be around here somewhere.

Hermione just snuck around an especially thick tree as suddenly a gruff hand closed around her shoulder. She gasped as she was turned around and violently slammed into the tree. Her blood froze over with fear as she found herself staring up into a pair of hard blue eyes. Riddle's piercing gaze cut into her, anger twisting his face. He opened his mouth and hissed darkly,

"Did you follow me?"

"…er…" Hermione mumbled fearfully. "…no?"

She cringed at her own very transparent lie. Predictably Riddle's expression grew even darker. Hermione bit her lip and stared up at him. By now the angry sheen in his eyes had turned into a raging firestorm. She could see how he clenched his jaw while he glared down at her. Quickly Hermione shied away from him, her heart thundering away in her chest. This was really bad. She stared up at Riddle with fear-widened eyes, fully expecting him to curse her. Already, his hand wandered to his robe pocket to pull his wand.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**Fear no more the lightning-flash,**

**Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;**

**Fear not slander, censure rash;**

**Thou hast finished joy and moan;**

**All lovers young, all lovers must**

**Consign to thee, and come to dust.**

–  **William Shakespeare**

**(*1564 †1616)**


	5. No Prudent Cavaliers

_"Did you follow me?"_

_"…er…" Hermione mumbled fearfully. "…no?"_

†

Hermione's head was downcast. She didn't dare to look up at Riddle. Her eyes were glued on his hand which was about to pull his wand. Fearfully she pressed herself against the tree behind her while Riddle's threat of using that skin-melting curse flew through her head.

Before Riddle drew his wand, though, he hesitated. Cautiously, Hermione's eyes fluttered up at him. She didn't find the expected angry snarl there. His starkly blue eyes had left her and Riddle stared at something behind her. Odd excitement washed over his features.

"Come with me," Riddle ordered sharply.

Gruffly he pulled her with him towards an old oak tree. Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. Riddle didn't say a word as they stood in front of the tree. Harsh triumph was mirrored in his deep blue eyes as they took in the tree. Hermione was deeply bewildered by his behaviour. She had expected Riddle to curse her or at the very least beat her for her audacity of having followed him. With mounting confusion, her gaze wandered to the tree. The oak's knobby trunk was incredibly massive, probably centuries old. The bark had fallen off at certain places, indicating that the wood underneath was not healthy. Large, leafless branches shot up to the sky, stubbornly trying to maintain whatever life was left in the oak. The impressive tree had doubtlessly reached the fall of its life, but it still stood proud, dwarfing the other trees around. The really interesting part, though, was the magic saturating the air around the tree.

Riddle pulled his wand and gracefully flourished it, trying to manipulate the tree's magic. In response the magic shifted around agitatedly, not at all content with being disturbed like this. Hermione shortly forgot who Riddle was and asked curiously,

"What is this? A ward?"

Riddle continued to wave his wand as he whispered absentmindedly, "More like a curse… very strong. But that was to be expected…"

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. She hadn't thought he would reply. Riddle released a frustrated breath of air and let his wand sink down. For a moment he contemplated the tree in front of him. Then he determinedly slashed the wand through the air. Suddenly a bluish translucent wall appeared. Like a dome it spanned over the huge oak tree, enveloping it protectively.

Excitement bubbled up in Hermione as she was confronted with such impressive magic. Tentatively she raised her hand and pressed the palm against the bluish wall. Coldness prickled under her palm unpleasantly and seemed to drain warmth and magic from her.

"It absorbs energy," Hermione mused thoughtfully.

Riddle was seemingly caught up in his own thought process. Maybe that was the reason he didn't snap at Hermione for her daring comment. His frosty eyes gleamed oddly as they wandered over the challenge in front of him. In one fluid movement he raised the wand. With that his magic started to crackle forcefully around him. Hermione gulped nervously as she felt his powerful magic prickling all over her body. Slowly Riddle moved his wand over the barrier of magic. At first nothing visible happened but then the barrier melted away where Riddle's wand touched. Soon a hole appeared. As Hermione looked through that opening she was surprised. While winter had a tight grasp on the forest around her, inside the barrier the cold season had no power at all. The forest floor was free of snow. Here and there wood anemones grew, sprinkling the ground in a vivid green.

Riddle didn't stop to admire the impossible change of season, but decisively stepped through the hole in the ward. Hermione quickly made her decision and followed him. The moment she passed the ward, she was greeted by warmth. Nothing remained of the winter's coldness, instead a full sun shone down at her. Birds twittered cheerfully. As Hermione turned, she glimpsed a hint of snow before the hole in the barrier re-sealed itself. Suddenly she was surrounded by a vernal forest. The treetops were not leafless anymore but green and full of life.

Impressed by this piece of magic, Hermione turned back to Riddle. He had walked over to the old oak tree and scanned it with interest. Only the tree wasn't that old anymore, Hermione noticed in amazement. Its trunk considerably thinner, the oak was bursting with strength. The bark was healthy and undisturbed, the branches thick and full with leaves.

Curious, Hermione stepped a bit closer to Riddle. He was transfixed with the oak tree. She decided to not stretch her luck and didn't address him again. Hermione's eyes left the imposing oak and spotted a stone coffin, standing at the tree's foot. White marble shone brilliantly in the sun. On the coffin's lid lay the beautifully crafted sculpture of a young woman. The woman's fine features were carved masterfully into the white marble. Her eyes were closed and she truly looked alive as if she had just fallen in a light slumber. On a small slab at the woman's feet was an inscription.

"'Ignosce me filiola'," Hermione read softly, not noticing she said it out loud. "Forgive me, daughter dear."

Riddle's icy blue eyes unfixed from the oak tree. Mild surprise lingered in his gaze as it wandered over Hermione. She quickly cast her eyes down, fear welling up in her as she chastised herself for having spoken out loud. Whatever it was that had caused Riddle's attention to shift to her, he did not address it. Hermione breathed out in relief as he looked away from her. Riddle's fingers softly skimmed over the inscription on the slab.

"Forgive me, indeed," he sneered disdainfully.

With that he turned from the tomb and faced the oak tree. He raised his wand and brandished it gracefully while he muttered an incantation under his breath. Hermione couldn't make out his words but she felt magic building up. As Riddle's dark magic wrapped around the oak, it began to switch to and fro between the older, larger tree with snow on its branches and the young healthy one.

It took Riddle a while, but then the magic in the tree gave in to his attack. There was a loud crack and the whole tree glowed in a bright light. The light wandered down the branches and concentrated into a ball in the trunk. Riddle trained his wand on that spot. Slowly, very slowly, the light drifted towards the wand's tip. Hermione gasped softly as she saw something floating in this ball of light. Riddle reached for it. The light went out and Riddle stood there, holding a beautiful silver diadem in his hand. Light blue gems glinted serenely in the sun's light. Riddle stared down at the jewellery, unbridled triumph crossing his face.

Hermione saw something moving in the corner of her eyes. She looked away from Riddle, her gaze falling on the stone coffin. A soft gasp left her. The statue on the coffin twitched slightly as life streamed into her. Slowly the stone woman sat up. Her beautiful face shining in the sun. Then she opened her eyes. Hermione drew in a sharp breath of air. The same blue gems that decorated the diadem adorned the statue's eyes and gleamed sinisterly.

Quickly, Hermione's gaze flew back at Riddle. He hadn't yet noticed the statue's movements, entranced as he was with the diadem. The stone woman wasn't as oblivious. Her eerie blue eyes were fixed on Riddle. The calm expression fell from her face and turned to fury as she stared at the diadem in Riddle's hands. Then she raised her hand, her index finger pointing at Riddle's back.

Hermione had no idea what enchantment had animated the statue, but it certainly couldn't be anything good. Without thinking further, she sprang into action and sprinted to Riddle. She jumped into his side, her arms wrapped around his waist, and pushed him down. Riddle gasped as he impacted on the forest floor.

"What the  _fuck_?" he growled irately, glaring up at her. "Are you cr-"

He couldn't finish as suddenly a beam of magic rushed dangerously close over their heads. Riddle's eyes widened with surprise. He tensed as he spotted the stone woman. She had slipped from the coffin and now stood there, anger twisting her beautiful face.

"Damn," Riddle hissed.

He stood up, pushing Hermione gruffly from him, and put the silver diadem into his robe pocket. His wand was already pointed at the statue. Hermione crawled away, her heart racing in her chest. The air was thick with magic and she could barely breathe.

Obviously, the stone woman wasn't one to play coy. Her hand twisted claw-like, suddenly flames burst to life. The blue flames licked hungrily over white marble fingers. Thirst for destruction burned in the statue's eerie eyes as she raised her hand, her index finger pointing at Riddle. Hissing bitter revenge, the blue flames dashed through the air.

Riddle swiftly brandished his wand and raised a silvery shield. The flames slammed into the shield, wanting to incinerate Riddle. He was forced to stumble a step back, his shield flickering under the ruthless attack. Riddle waved his wand in a complicated pattern. The blue flames roared in protest as his shield slowly sucked them in and smothered them. Quickly Riddle turned away from the dying flames and waved his wand at the protective barrier through which they had entered. This time, though, his effort was unsuccessful. The barrier was sealed and didn't want to budge a second time.

Mercilessly, the marble statue raised her arm again. This time her index and middle finger were extended towards the sky. A bright red beam of light left the fingertips. With one sharp movement the stone woman brought her arm down. The red light followed her movement. Like a sharp blade it crashed down on Riddle who swiftly raised another shield. The red shaft of light was stopped by his powerful defence. Still, the stone woman pressed on. Hermione saw Riddle's eyes widen slightly as the red light penetrated his shield. In the last second, Riddle hurled himself out of the way. Still, the red beam of light cut into his left arm before it slammed into the forest floor.

Dark red blood dripped from his hand, as Riddle stared at the statue, his eyes gleaming with rage. A snarl on his face, he attacked. Riddle's wand was a blur as he brandished it, sending curse after curse at his opponent. His dark magic sparked with fury as it stormed around him and readily formed into the most complex spells. The stone woman was forced to take a step back under the assault. Hermione had never seen someone fight like Riddle.

A flick of his wand and he cast a dark curse. His magic violently descended upon the stone woman and ripped at her. His spell seemed to bend time itself. First a thick layer of dust accumulated on the white marble. Then years, decades, rushed by in mere seconds and cracks of old age appeared in the stone.

Hermione felt Riddle's magic painfully on her body and quickly took cover, crouched behind the stone coffin. Cautiously she peered over the coffin. Under the influence of Riddle's magic, pieces of stone broke away from the statue and burst into dust even before they hit the ground. The statue stumbled another step away. Then suddenly the blue gems in her eye sockets burned balefully. Magic crackled around the woman and she slashed her arm through the air. Riddle's curse broke with a resounding crack and the woman sent a furious wave of her magic towards Riddle. He brandished his wand and managed to deflect the powerful magic.

Hermione stared with wide eyes at the duel. She doubted she would have been able to stand even a second against the statue. It obviously wasn't just animated stone but was also protected by several strong shields.

 _Damn_ , Hermione thought, angry at her own curiosity. If only she hadn't followed Riddle, then she wouldn't be trapped here. The magical barrier still covered the whole area around the oak tree, conjuring up the illusion of a spring day when in reality it was winter.

Another wave of Riddle's dark magic washed over Hermione, making her hair stand on end. Trembling slightly, she pressed her back against the stone coffin. As she cowered on the ground, she felt something hard against her hand. A strangely formed stone lay there between the brown leaves on the ground. Hermione picked it up and realized with horror that it was bone. Half of a human mandible, molars still in their sockets, lay in her shaking hand. Hermione's fear-widened eyes wandered over the forest floor. Sure enough, there were more bones lying about. She gulped thickly. Another victim of this horrible trap?

Just as Hermione wanted to crawl away from the bones, she saw something else. It couldn't be, could it? Hermione's hand trembled as she cautiously reached out. It couldn't really be a… Her hand closed around it and a ripple went through her magic.

"Merlin."

Hermione couldn't believe it as she stared down at a wand in her hand. It was slender and made of light brown wood. Hermione's magic leaped enthusiastically and rushed into the wood, sending joyful sparkles from its tip. Hermione couldn't help but smile down at that wonderful wand in her hand. Suddenly she felt so… so…

_Whole._

Her joy was rather short-lived as a loud crack resounded and Hermione was pushed back into the situation at hand. Holding the wand tightly, she looked at Riddle. He was still fighting, doing his best to destroy that stone woman. Riddle's display of magic was quite impressive. Still, the cursed statue was even for him not an easy opponent. Hermione turned her head and scanned the vernal forest around her.

_I need to take the barrier down._

She bit her lip hard as a mixture of apprehension and fear hit her. This was only the second time, she ever held a real wand in her hand how was she supposed to do this? Hermione closed her eyes and tried to sort her churned up thoughts.

 _Calm down_ , she told herself.  _You've read about wards. You know what to do._

There had been a whole shelf of books about warding magic in the Malfoys' library. Wand clasped tightly, Hermione crept away from the coffin. Just a few metres and her hands made contact with the invisible barrier. Quickly, she moved the wand over the barrier. She could feel the power of the ward pulsing under her wand's tip. There was more, though. Something more sinister was woven into the protective ward. A curse was hidden underneath. It was this curse that supplied the warding magic with the necessary energy. Hermione could also tell that the curse was a lot stronger from the inside. To enter the circle of warding magic was relatively easy but the curse would see to it that no-one would leave again.

Hermione remembered the book about curse breaking she had read just before leaving for Albania. ' _Each and every curse has a weak point,'_  the book had said. Hermione prayed it had been right.

With a trembling hand she waved the wand. Tentatively Hermione dared to send a bit of her magic into the barrier, just to see how it would be absorbed and what path it would take. That piece of her magic moved incredibly fast. Hermione had trouble keeping track. Beads of sweat built on her forehead. But then – a soft gasp left Hermione – her magic merged with the curse and finally she could fully see it.

It was a beautiful curse. Its traces were almost invisible as it was so cleverly woven into the barrier. Whoever managed to construct this curse must have been a genius. Everything fit so perfectly. It was almost as if the curse had a mind of its own. It was a indeed a beautiful composition

Hermione breathed in deeply, reminding herself of her mission. She wasn't here to admire this curse. Her hand tightened around her wand and Hermione sent another surge of her magic into the barrier, examining more. While the curse was incredibly strong, it simultaneously was the weak point of the whole defence system. Without this curse, the warding magic and the whole barrier was useless. If the curse fell, it would set off a chain reaction, destroying everything.

Hermione suppressed her fear and ordered all of her magic to delve into the curse. Of course, there was no way she would be able to break the curse with sheer force. So Hermione formed her magic into countless tiny strands. She ordered them to curl around the curse and sneakily tug at it. One alone would have been useless, but as there were so many they slowly managed to weaken the curse. Hermione felt light-headed as she had to send so much of her magic into the barrier.

After a few horribly long minutes, a powerful ripple went through the whole barrier and Hermione could feel her magic breaking through the curse. The curse finally snapped and with a swishing sound disappeared. Hermione crumbled to her knees, exhausted. A mixture of a strangled laugh and a sob left her as snowflakes softly floated down on her.

She had made it!

The barrier had fallen. The eternal spring was broken. Quickly Hermione turned her head and looked for Riddle. He was still engaged in the fight with the enchanted statue and hadn't yet noticed that the barrier was gone. Blood was flowing down Riddle's face from a cut at his temple. The stone statue had by now lost her left arm, deep cracks running though her torso. Still, she attacked with the same viciousness.

Hermione breathed in deeply before she dashed towards Riddle. The statue raised her hand and a surge of her powerful magic soared inches over Hermione's head. Shortly before she reached Riddle, Hermione dived and once again collided with his side. This time he couldn't protest because she pulled him with her into apparition. Seconds later they slumped down right in front of the tent's entrance. Hermione lay on Riddle's chest, grabbing him tightly while her heart raced away in her chest. A confused frown was on his face as Riddle first eyed her then turned his head and scanned the tent.

"Did you just apparate us here?" he finally asked breathlessly.

Hermione gingerly got up from him and slipped the wand into her robe pocket so that Riddle wouldn't see.

"Yes, Master Riddle," she replied softly. "The wards were suddenly down."

Again Riddle turned his head, taking in his surroundings. Suspicious frown on his brow, he slowly got up. Hermione shied away from his piercing gaze as it came to rest on her.

"Why did the wards fall?" he asked sharply.

She quickly shook her head. "I don't know. I saw them breaking down and thought that you would want to leave. So, I apparated us here, Master Riddle."

For a second, Riddle didn't reply. His frosty blue eyes kept her imprisoned and Hermione was very conscious of the wand in her robe pocket. If Riddle knew she had a real wand, she didn't know what he would do to her. One of the worst crimes a Mudblood could commit was using, or even touching, a wizard's wand.

"Very well," Riddle said slowly, still scanning her suspiciously.

Then he walked over to the tent. Hermione exhaled, relief taking over. She still trembled slightly as she quickly followed Riddle into the tent. He had already taken off his winter cloak, sat down on the sitting area and carefully placed the silver diadem on the table in front of him. Hermione saw his cold blue eyes glinting eerily as Riddle stared at the diadem.

Then he reached for the leather-bound book Hermione had once tried to read. He opened the book and laid it beside the diadem on the table before he pulled his wand. Slowly he waved it over the diadem, muttering spells under his breath. From time to time he checked something in the book, before he resumed his incantations.

Hermione saw that there was still blood flowing from the deep cut in his temple. Riddle didn't pay it any heed. Well, Hermione certainly wasn't going to volunteer help. So she stepped far away from Riddle.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione suppressed a yawn as she peered at Riddle. He was still bent over the diadem. An obsessed glint smouldered in his eyes while he delicately waved his wand over the jewellery. Since hours he hadn't done anything else.

Hermione pursed her lips. The diadem was admittedly strange but it didn't really interest her. Instead the wand, the slender brown wand, dominated Hermione's thoughts. It rested so alluringly in her robe pocket.

Hermione glanced at Riddle. The way he looked like a man possessed, he would probably be immersed in the diadem for another couple of hours. Slowly Hermione inched over to the exit door. The hated bright-red wand lay forgotten on the kitchen counter. Heart thrumming in her chest, Hermione slipped out and took several steps away from the tent. Then she couldn't hold back anymore and with trembling hands pulled the wand. A loving smile curved her lips as she looked at the chestnut wand in her hand. Using it a little wouldn't hurt, would it? No-one would ever find out.

 _Come on, Hermione, just do it_ , the wand seemed to whisper to her invitingly. Hermione breathed in deeply.  _Okay. Just a few spells_ , she promised herself. She shot a furtive glance in the direction of the tent. No Riddle in sight. Her heart was beating away in her chest as Hermione raised the wand and brandished it in the movements she had practised without wand so many times.

"Protego!"

Hermione's eyes widened as the shield really took form around her. She smiled widely. It had worked! Another wave of the wand and the shield disappeared. That had been easy. She needed something more difficult. Enthusiastically Hermione tried a few other spells.  _Stupefy, Aguamenti, Lumos, Evanesco_. Everything worked. So she decided to try something more challenging. She bent down scooped up a bit snow and formed a snowball. Then she threw it up in the air and waved her wand in a complicated pattern.

"Aresto momentum."

Nothing happened and the snowball landed on the ground. Hermione glared at the spot. Then she threw another snowball and again tried the spell. This time the snowball wobbled slightly in the air, but still fell. Her brow furrowed in concentration, Hermione worked on the spell and was lost in a happy world of her own.

"Aresto momentum."

Hermione's eyes lit up with pride as, this time, the snowball stopped its descent, floated in the air and awaited her commands. Hermione giggled in joy at her achievement, but then a sharp voice ripped her out of her delight.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione felt the wand shooting out of her hand. She stiffened and her heart clenched in fear. Slowly she turned around to where the voice had come from. There, a few metres, away stood Riddle. He held his own wand in his right hand and hers in the other. A swoop of panic grabbed Hermione as she looked at his face. His blue eyes smouldered with anger as he glared at her darkly. Hermione wanted to turn around and run away but stood rooted to the ground. Riddle angrily stared the second wand in his hand and the furious glint in his eyes intensified. Then he stored the wand away in his robe pocket. The angry expression was still on his face as he walked over to her.

"Where did you get that wand?" Riddle hissed, his voice laden with anger.

Hermione looked up at him fearfully. She was starting to tremble as she saw that dangerous look on his face.

"I… I…" she mumbled, cowering before him. "I found it. Right beside that coffin…"

Riddle didn't wait for her to voice anything more. He raised his hand and harshly grabbed her. Hermione winced as his hand clenched painfully tight around her left upper arm. Riddle wrenched her closer to him. Then he bent down to her so that his face was mere inches from hers. Hermione's breathing was erratic with fear.

"You are not allowed to use a wand," he said darkly, threat seeping through his voice.

"I- I know," Hermione hastily assured, trying to appease him. "I'm sorry."

Riddle's eyes narrowed in anger and Hermione shied away from him. She whimpered softly as he tightened his grip on her. Without saying any more Riddle turned around and brutally pulled her with him. Hermione was quaking with fear as she stumbled after him. What was he going to do with her? Riddle had never beaten her before, but she knew things could change very quickly.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded with him. "I won't do it again."

Riddle didn't answer, he just continued to pull her with him. Hermione's stomach knotted with fear. If only she hadn't used the wand.

"Please, Master Riddle," she choked out, terrified. "I'm sorry."

Again he didn't react to her begging. Riddle entered the tent and Hermione was forced to follow him. He never released her as he turned around to her. Hermione had to supress a sob as she saw that aggressive look on his face. He grabbed her other arm, too, and held her tightly. Hermione trembled under his touch.

"You-" Riddle hissed at her in a fearsome voice. "-are a Mudblood. You are not worthy enough to touch a wand."

Hermione nodded, incredibly frightened by the furious magic he radiated. "Yes. I shouldn't have done it. Please forgive me, Master Riddle."

Riddle sneered at her, the fury never leaving his eyes. He shook her violently and Hermione whimpered.

"How dare you use a wand, you filthy Muggle?" he yelled at her. "You deserve to get beaten for your nerve alone!"

Hermione sniffed. Unshed tears swam in her eyes as she raised them and peered up at Riddle. He looked absolutely furious and his angry magic was all over the place. It ripped at Hermione painfully. Hopefully Riddle would only beat her and not use any curses on her. She quickly averted her eyes from his angry face.

"Don't hurt me, please."

There was not even a spark of mercy in Riddle's eyes. He again shook her brutally. An intimidating snarl on his face, he hissed,

"You are unfit to hold a wand. What did you try to do? You know you are not able to compete with a real wizard. Your magic is useless and weak."

His cruel words echoed through her mind. Hermione had heard them so often, they had left behind huge scars.

_Weak!_

Her blood was dirty. Living among wizards, she was nothing but a slave. Something to be used, something to be punished and discarded.

_Useless!_

Hermione raised her face and stared up at Riddle. He glared at her, vicious conviction in his emotionless eyes. He did believe it. He  _knew_  it.

_Unfit to hold a wand!_

That was what she was. A Mudblood. A slave. Barely human… Hermione couldn't take her eyes from Riddle, his words re-playing in her mind over and over again. They awoke something in her. White hot, it burned in Hermione's chest.

_Unable to compete with a real wizard?_

What a lie!

A lie! Everything!

The white hot burning intensified inside Hermione. She could still see the darkness eerily lingering in Riddle's eyes. But what did his darkness matter? Fear dropped from Hermione and she angrily bared her teeth. How was her magic inferior? How was it weaker? As she opened her mouth, it was only to snap the truth at the dark wizard,

"You are wrong! My magic is  _not_  weak!"

As he heard it, a dark shadow crossed Riddle's face and a fearsome glint burned murderously in his eyes. Without a warning, he hurled her away. Hermione gasped as she made hard contact with the floor. His wand was pointed at her threateningly as Riddle hissed,

"You are a worthless creature. Nothing but scum."

His voice was a mere whisper but its inflection was icy cold. Hermione was lying at his feet, quite unprotected, while he towered over her. Cold anger raged in his eyes just as destructive as the dark magic flying around him. Riddle's darkness, though, did not manage to turn his lies into the truth.

All those years, Hermione had never said anything. Never. Now her lips moved and she snarled at Riddle,

"You conceited prick!"

A furious spark of his magic hit her hard, but Hermione did not care. Instead she hissed, scorn wrapped around her harsh words,

"My magic is not weaker than yours! At least  _I_  didn't get myself caught inside that barrier which was so  _obviously_  a trap. You should  _thank_  me that I didn't leave you there."

Riddle stared at her. The angry snarl had left his face. Now it was a smooth mask, completely unreadable. He did not answer anything. He just whirled his wand.

"Cruc-"

Hermione knew the spell – very well – and reacted without thinking. Like a flash a strand of her magic burst from her. It easily drove away Riddle's powerful magic which was still thick in the air and rushed towards Riddle himself. She could see his blue eyes widen in surprise. Before he was able to finish his curse or protect himself in any way, Hermione's magic collided with Riddle and angrily hurled him away. Hermione saw how his body was flung violently against the wardrobe, breaking its wooden door.

Riddle's form crumbled down on the floor, but Hermione didn't stay to see more. Hastily, almost tripping over herself, she scrambled up to her feet. Then she turned around and ran.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**Those eyes, deep gulfs where ghastly secrets lurk,**

**Breathe giddiness. no prudent cavaliers**

**Can gaze unsickened on the eternal smirk**

**That on thy two and thirty teeth appears.**

**\- Charles Baudelaire**

**(*1821 † 1867)**


	6. Mine Enemy

_Riddle's form crumbled down on the floor. Hastily, almost tripping over herself, Hermione scrambled up to her feet. Then she turned around and ran._

†

Hermione ran. Out of the tent. Away away. Into the woods. She never turned back. Never checked whether Riddle was following. She just ran. Her lungs burnt and her legs hurt, but she did not stop. Twigs scratched her face, roots threatened to make her fall, but she didn't slow down. Icy cold air assaulted every inch of her bare skin. Hermione didn't even notice. She ran.

How long she ran, she had no idea. It felt like miles and miles. Her breathing was laboured, her body protested against the exertion and she was forced to slow down. Still panting heavily Hermione walked through the forest, the urge to escape driving her on. The forest floor was layered with five inches of snow. Spruces surrounded her, their branches bowing under the weight of the snow. The weak winter sun was hanging low, casting long shadows. Hermione was only wearing her thin robes over the cheap cotton dress and now the cold slowly crept over her. Her shoes were no real barrier against the snow and were soaked in ice water. Hermione shivered miserably but she still walked on.

She couldn't apparate. Her capped red wand lay abandoned in the tent. The real wand was still stored away in Riddle's robe pocket. Hermione had no idea where she was and knew that by foot any settlement was days away. There was no getting away from this forest. Hermione was very much lost.

_Lost… but…_

It was so beautiful. The snow, the trees, the silence of the woods. It was so calm. Only the crunching of the snow under her shoes disturbed the peace. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, first hot on her skin then icy cold and frozen. Hermione took in a shuddered breath. It smelled good. She couldn't remember when she had last breathed so freely. She still walked on. And it was  _her_  decision. A soft sob broke from her mouth. Hermione raised her hand and wiped the new tears from her eyes. It was her decision! She could turn left or she could turn right. She could walk on or stop.

 _My decision._ More tears rolled down her cheeks and a small smile lit up her face.

Hermione continued to walk for a very long time. Fat fluffy snowflakes were softly falling down on her. The sun disappeared and stars took its place, twinkling down at her. The white snow glowed bright in the moon light. In the dark it was even more beautiful. Otherworldly beautiful. Hermione had stopped shivering and didn't feel cold anymore. Her hands and feet had gone numb and she was beginning to feel tired.

She wasn't stupid. She knew what it meant. She was stranded here in the middle of a snow-covered forest wearing nothing but light clothing. Temperature was dropping since the sun had faded and it had started to snow again. There was no-where she could go and no-one would find her here. She knew what it meant…

…but it didn't matter. Her time was counting down but every breath she took felt liberating. This was wonderful and she felt free. Hermione smiled a small smile and stumbled on, her feet now heavy. Every step took a great effort. The spruces turned into oaks with massive trunks but Hermione continued on.

The tiredness scared her, the numbness scared her. It was only natural to be scared, she told herself as she felt her thoughts getting tangled up in a haze. Everything seemed to slow down.

Her feet dragged and with the next step she stumbled over a root. Her mind was not fast enough to comprehend what was happening and Hermione fell down in the snow. She was lying there for a few minutes. With an effort she rolled herself on her back. There was no cold seeping through the forest floor. There should be, but there wasn't. Hermione crawled to a nearby tree and propped her back up against its trunk. She tiredly leaned her head against the tree and stared at the scene in front of her. Ground covered in snow, pale moonlight illuminating everything and proud trees surrounding her. It could have been worse. A lot.

She had no regrets.

Her eyes were dropping. The snow disappeared and the trees. Everything was black.

She felt herself sliding down. It made her dizzy but not in a bad way.

Just tired.

So

tired…

.

.

.

.

.

Through the darkness, through the numbness something shook her. It made no sense to her. A jolt of electricity seared through her body. Hermione didn't want to come back. But the jolt was persistent and burned through her sluggish mind. Unwillingly, she was pulled out of her darkness. Her thoughts came back. Hermione struggled her eyes open. The trees were still there and the moon high up in the sky. A layer of white snow covered her. There it was again, a flash of pain searing through her. She had lost her connection to her body but now that pain pulled it back. It took Hermione some time to comprehend the pain and then more time to understand that it came from her left forearm.

 _No._ Not that! Hermione felt her dark mark burn. No.

She had barely realized it as there was a soft popping sound. No! A pair of heavy boots now disturbed the layer of snow in her line of view. Hermione raised her head. Black trousers, a thick winter cloak and then she stared up at Riddle's pale face.

"No!" she wanted to scream, but her weak voice left her as a mere whisper.

His face expressionless, Riddle stared down at her with his steely eyes. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. This couldn't be! She forced her body to move. It didn't want to obey her. Still, she managed to push herself away from the tree trunk and fell to her side. Hermione struggled to get up, but failed. On her hands and knees she crawled away from him. He couldn't be here. He couldn't have found her. Her hands sank deep into the snow as she fought to drag her body away from him.

A pair of dark boots appeared in the corner of her eyes. Hermione wanted to scream in frustration as she realized Riddle had walked up to her. Only a soft whimper left her. Suddenly her arm gave way underneath her and she fell down in the snow. As much as she struggled, she couldn't get up again. Helplessly she lay in the snow and cursed her own bad luck.

Expecting a gruff hand or even a curse, Hermione's body tensed as suddenly a light weight fell down on her. It felt pleasantly warm and smelled good. Her confusion made her open her eyes and turn her head slightly. She found Riddle crouched beside her. That horribly emotionless look was still on his face but now he was missing his black cloak. Hermione's eyes locked with his blue ones. There was a strange look in them, she mused. But then her own eyes shut and finally her mind decided to lock down.

†

The girl had lost consciousness. Riddle extended a hesitant hand and cautiously skimmed his fingers over her cheek. It was icy cold. He pursed his lips in contemplation. Fury had driven him to hunt her down. His first impulse had been to find the Mudblood, to maim her, to make her bleed. He had wanted to cut her open, relishing in her pleas for mercy. Never granting any.

Now Riddle had caught his prey, but his anger strangely abandoned him.

His brow was furrowed in confusion as Riddle's hand slowly wandered to her shoulder. He turned her around so that she lay on her back. His gaze wandered over the Mudblood's body. Her lips were blue and her skin colour deathly pale. She was only wearing thin robes on top of that paltry dress. Riddle pulled his cloak tightly around her small body. His movements were slow and hesitant as one of his hands wandered to the back of her knees and the other arm snaked around her upper body. Then he lifted her up. She was incredibly light. Her body felt so frail as he pulled her against his chest. Riddle twirled on the spot and stepped into the dark pressure of apparition. Seconds later he reappeared standing right in front of the tent. Penny still pressed against him, he entered. He walked over to his bed and gingerly laid her down. Wrapped in his black cloak, she looked small and miserable.

Again a frown furrowed Riddle's brow. The absence of his previous rage was puzzling him. No. The  _girl_  was puzzling him. Had this Mudblood really managed to overcome his magic and had successfully attacked him? As he had wanted to send the Cruciatus Curse at her, an incredibly powerful flash of magic had hit him full force and had thrown him away.

Knocking  _him_  unconscious?

As much as Riddle wanted to deny it, the bump at the back of his head was a painful reminder. Penny, a filthy _Mudblood_ , had managed to beat him. Granted he hadn't expected any form of attack so hadn't been on the alert but it still was a great feat. How could a Mudblood be this powerful?

_Impossible._

Riddle shook his head. It  _was_  impossible. A Mudblood's magic was only a weak shadow of the power that had accumulated over centuries in the old Pureblood lines. Everybody knew that Mudbloods were only good enough to serve Purebloods. They had no noteworthy magical skills and were too stupid to do more than simple menial work.

"Forgive me."

The foreign words slipped through Riddle's lips. That had been the inscription on Helena's coffin.  _'Ignosce me.'_  Penny had been able to read and even translate it correctly into English. A  _stupid_  Mudblood indeed… Riddle stared down at the girl's pale face before he pulled her wand out of his robe pocket and-

_Wait?_

_Her_  wand? Surely not. Riddle sneered down at her unconscious form. Then he examined the smooth wand. It didn't apply with his magic at all. The Mudblood had used it, though. Aresto momentum was no simple spell. So much for Penny's lack of magical skill…  _'I found the wand by the coffin,'_  she had said. Helena's coffin, obviously. So Penny had the wand since they had been trapped inside the wards.

_Ravenclaw's wards…_

They had been a perfidious trap, fitting for a witch like Ravenclaw. How could he have forgotten about the wards? Riddle berated himself. The Diadem had demanded his whole attention, he had never wondered why Ravenclaw's wards had fallen. Who broke them down?

Riddle stared down at the Mudblood. That was impossible, wasn't it? Penny? How would she have been able to take down such powerful magic? A simple Mudblood could never have the powers or the knowledge to rival Rowena Ravenclaw's. No, there had to be a different explanation…

Riddle was brought out of his thoughts as Penny stirred slightly. The first sign of life since she had fallen unconscious in the forest. He put a hand down on her forehead. It still felt unnaturally cold. Riddle sat down on the edge of the bed. Slowly he pulled his cloak from Penny's body and continued to tentatively undress her. First the outer robes then he gingerly unbuttoned her white cotton dress. The fabric of the dress was coarse, ragged and just filthy. Riddle discarded it on the floor. He stared down at the girl in front of him. Her head had fallen to her side and her curly hair obscured her face. Slowly his gaze wandered over her body, clad in nothing but knickers and bra. Without her clothes her body looked even more scrawny. He could clearly see her hip bones and her ribs under her skin. Riddle extended a hand and gently laid it down on her concave stomach, then it wandered over her soft skin and up to her side. He could feel every single rip under his touch.

Penny stirred again and Riddle got ripped from his contemplation. He needed to warm her up. He swiftly pulled his wand and waved it. A thick blanket appeared out of thin air. He brandished his wand in a more complicated pattern and weaved a warming charm into the fabric. Riddle could feel the blanket slowly warming up with his magic as he wrapped it tightly around Penny's body.

She was sleeping.

His puzzle.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

As Hermione woke up she felt warm and comfortable. Still very tired she didn't open her eyes. Memories spooked through her head. She remembered how she had wandered through a forest. It had been so cold. And dark. She turned and rolled on her back, still with closed eyes. There was a warm blanket on top of her. What had happened? Maybe she had died. If so, death wasn't that bad.

"Penny?" a pleasant voice cut through her thoughts. "I know you are awake. Open your eyes."

Reluctantly, Hermione obeyed that voice. She cracked her eyes open and was blinded by the light. Her eyes watered and she blinked a few times. Slowly things swam into focus. She stared up at a grey ceiling. It was familiar. Her body froze in horror. It was the tent. She was back! More memories invaded her mind. She had leant against that tree in the middle of the forest as suddenly Riddle had appeared. She had tried to escape him but it had been futile. Icy cold the realization dawned on her. Riddle had caught her.

Hermione's eyes widened and she heard her own pulse hammering away in her ears. Then she turned her head. Riddle was sitting in one of the arm chairs not far from her. His legs were casually spread out in front of him and he eyed her curiously.

"M- Master Riddle," Hermione squealed, panicky, as she abruptly sat up in the bed.

The blanket slid off her, revealing her upper body. To her horror Hermione saw that she was wearing nothing but her underwear. Quickly she grabbed the blanket and pulled it up, covering herself. An amused smirk appeared on Riddle's face. More fear was boiling up in Hermione and she felt herself starting to tremble. What did he plan? He had undressed her, hadn't he? Hermione realized in shock that it was his bed she was lying in. Her stomach clenched in fear and she tried to get up from the bed.

"Slow down," Riddle said, amusement tinting his voice.

He got up from his seat and swiftly stepped over to her. Hermione was so weak she didn't manage to get up in time. Riddle pushed her back down on the bed.

"Lie down," he said commandingly.

Hearing the sharp edge in his voice, Hermione obeyed him and sank back in the bed. She looked up at him with fearful eyes. The smirk still danced around his mouth and he sat down beside her on the bed. She tensed as she felt him so close by.

"I- I'm sorry I cursed you," Hermione said hastily. "I didn't mean to do it. It just happened."

"I see," Riddle purred. Then he prompted, a nasty glint in his eyes, "No apology for insulting me?"

' _Conceited prick!'_  Hermione remembered her words. She knew she needed to apologize –  _Instantly!_  – but her lips were stubbornly sealed. Riddle waited a moment. As no apology came a terrifying grin appeared on his face and he mused,

"Hm. Seems I need to punish you for your cheek."

Hermione shrank away from him. He raised his hand and she squeezed her eyes shut, awaiting the blow. It never came. Riddle chuckled softly and she cautiously re-opened her eyes. He had grabbed a strand of her hair and now lazily curled it around a finger while he still stared at her. His strange behaviour frightened her more than a slap would have. His hand let go of her hair and instead ran gently over her arm. With that a predatory glint appeared in his blue eyes. His fingers left her arm and softly danced over her collarbone. Hermione shuddered at his greedy touch.

"Please, don't," she choked out, scared by his intentions.

Smirk in place, Riddle bent down to her and she was hit by a wave of his scent. His face was uncomfortably close to hers and Hermione stared at him with wide scared eyes. The dark smirk never left him as Riddle drank in her fear. He bent even closer to her and Hermione could feel his lips softly skimming over her cheek as he moved them to her ear. A shudder ran down her spine, but she didn't dare to move.

"Whatever do you think I  _would_  do to you, little Mudblood?" Riddle whispered, faux indignation wrapped around his silky words.

Hermione trembled as she felt his hot breath against her skin. Riddle bent up and smugly took in her shaken state. Then he reached for the bedside table and retrieved a red potion bottle. He offered it to Hermione. All jest left his face as he ordered her sharply,

"Drink that."

Hermione didn't doubt his authority. She accepted the potion vial and downed its content. It tasted horribly of spoiled orange juice. Riddle took the now empty vial from her and pressed another one in her hand. Without objection Hermione drank the potion. This one didn't taste as bad and washed away the after-taste from the first one. Instantly pleasant warmth spread through her. Involuntarily her body relaxed even though Riddle was still nearby. The last thing she saw before her eyelids drooped was how Riddle waved his wand over her. The comfortable warmth intensified then Hermione drifted off to sleep.

†

Riddle watched as the strange creature fell asleep. He extended a hand to her and gingerly carded his fingers through her soft curly hair. Strange how she was skittish like a foal and then she could summon the strongest of magic. Interestedly Riddle scanned her sleeping face. It was relaxed, no hint of fear on her features anymore. He ran the pad of his thumb over her plump lips.

"Where does your power come from?" he mused as he eyed the girl.

All Mudbloods were weak, their magic useless. Riddle knew that. But how did Penny fit into that equation? Magic like hers, even if the vessel was defective, always was something to be treasured.

Riddle shook his head as he stared down at the girl. His gaze left her face and wandered to her left arm. The inner side of her forearm was on display and the dark mark was clearly visible on her pale skin. By a crude hand a huge 'M' had been tattooed into the skin, outlined by a circled of runes.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

As Hermione woke the next time, the tent was bathed in daylight which fell through the window. Obviously she had slept the whole night. Slowly she sat up in the bed. Her body didn't feel so weak anymore. Maybe it had been the potions or the sleep but she felt loads better. She heard clatter coming from the small kitchenette. A confused frown on her forehead, Hermione turned to see what was causing the noise. Her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted Riddle, standing with his back to her, obviously cooking something if that heavenly smell was anything to go by.

That was her job. Merlin, she had neglected her duties! Panic made her heart skip a few beats. First that incident from yesterday and now she had been sleeping in when she should have prepared the breakfast. Fear was spiralling even further and Hermione quickly sprang out of the bed. As she stood up her head began to swirl and she felt incredibly dizzy. On top of that she noticed that she was still wearing nothing but her underwear. Hermione staggered slightly as she turned in search of her dress.

"So you finally woke up?" a voice cut through her panic.

Hermione tensed and then looked over at the kitchenette. Riddle leaned nonchalantly against the counter, twirled his wand through his fingers and a feral smile played around his mouth. With unease Hermione noticed how his eyes left her face and lazily raked over her exposed body. She didn't move a muscle, not knowing what to do. Finally his incredibly blue eyes landed on her face again and she saw dark amusement dancing in them. Hermione was petrified with fear as she stared back at him.

"Well, what are you doing running around half-naked?" Riddle drawled. "Get dressed."

Hermione averted her eyes and had them downcast as she whispered meekly, "I- I can't find my clothes, Master Riddle."

She heard him chuckle at that. "Did you get blind on top of everything else? They're lying on the chair."

With that he turned away from her and resumed his cooking. Hermione still didn't move but her gaze wandered to the arm chair. A bundle of clothes was lying there. Casting another cautious glance at Riddle, she made sure that he was still ignoring her. Then ever so hesitantly she moved towards the chair. Hermione grabbed the clothes but instantly noticed they weren't hers. This wasn't her old cotton dress. Perplexed Hermione stared down a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt and a thick woollen green pullover. These clothes looked suspiciously like the things Riddle normally wore but they clearly appeared to be cut to fit a woman's body. Now that she looked closer, Hermione could feel residues of magic lingering on the fabric. She didn't dare to address Riddle again so she just slipped into the clothes. They were tight and felt strange on her body. She hadn't been allowed to use anything but that baggy dress for years now. But somehow she liked the feeling of her new clothes and they were definitely warmer than her old ones.

Riddle was finished with cooking and now waved his wand at the cupboard. Plates and cutlery floated over to the small table and arranged themselves on top of it. In the meantime Riddle placed a pan with scrambled eggs and bacon on the table. Then he fetched a few slices of toast and a pot of tea. Hermione watched with growing unease that he set the table for two. Had Draco returned? She bit her lip fearfully at the prospect of him being back. Hermione stood as far away from Riddle as possible, trying to be inconspicuous. She felt slightly sick as she stood there. Her body hurt all over and she was feeling wobbly on her feet. Hermione's gaze wandered back to the table. Riddle had sat down and she stiffened as his blue eyes suddenly snapped at her.

"Come here," he ordered her sharply.

No other option left Hermione obediently walked over to him, staring at Riddle with wide eyes. His face was once again unreadable as he scanned her. She stood right beside the table and had her eyes downcast as she asked shyly,

"How can I help you?"

Ignoring her question, Riddle said, "Sit down."

Hermione's face snapped at him. He had an expectant eyebrow raised at her. Her gaze wandered to and fro between him and the empty chair opposite him.

She muttered, "I… I couldn't possibly-"

"Sit!" Riddle's commanding voice cut her off.

Hermione flinched at his tone of voice and immediately sat down on the chair. She didn't dare to look up at Riddle and instead stared down at her trembling hands in her lap. She heard him move, obviously filling his plate, but Hermione still didn't look up.

"Penny," Riddle said in his sharp voice.

Reluctantly Hermione raised her head. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw that the plate in front of her was filled with scrambled eggs, bacon and a piece of golden toast. She insecurely looked at Riddle. By now a mocking smirk was curling up his mouth. He was obviously very amused by her.

"Eat," he ordered her.

Hermione hesitated for a second. The scrambled eggs lay alluringly on the plate and Hermione realized how hungry she was. She threw another timid glance at Riddle. He poured himself a cup of tea and didn't pay her any attention as he began to eat. Hermione extended a trembling hand and picked up the fork. Then she ever so cautiously began to eat. It was delicious. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had eaten something other than cold left-overs. This was really good. She threw a furtive glance at Riddle but he still ignored her. How strange. She had actually expected him to punish her after the incident from yesterday. Instead he had helped her, had made breakfast and had even given her some food. Maybe this all was just a dream and she still leaned against that tree while slowly freezing to death. They ate in silence and she relished the taste of her food.

As Hermione was finished, Riddle put down his fork and scanned her. His steady gaze intimidated her and she dropped her eyes. A wave of Riddle's wand and the table was cleared, the dishes flying over to the kitchenette. Trepidation was mounting up in Hermione and she fearfully peered at Riddle. She stiffened in shock as she spotted a small book in his hand. Hermione's blood turned icy cold with fear as she recognized that book. Small, tattered, worn with use, that book was her most important possession. Her encyclopaedia of charms. With shock Hermione realized that she had put the book into her robe pocket to keep it safe. Riddle must have found it as he had removed her clothes from her yesterday.

"Can you explain to me where you got this from?" Riddle's frosty voice cut through her panic.

Hermione's brown eyes fearfully wandered to him. There was an impenetrable mask on Riddle's face as he scanned her, his eyes boring into her mercilessly. Quickly Hermione cast her eyes down and whispered shakily,

"I didn't  _steal_  it. I swear, Master Riddle."

"I never said you did," Riddle remarked coldly, unfazed by her fear.

Hermione had to shortly close her eyes to get her crazily pounding heart under control. Never raising her eyes at him, she said softly,

"I found the book in- in Diagon Alley. Some years ago. And I- I just kept it."

"Hm," made Riddle lightly.

Hermione swallowed, but then dared to look at him. He lazily flipped through the small book. Suddenly his startlingly blue eyes snapped at her and Hermione flinched. A smirk curled up Riddle's mouth and he inquired, faux innocence viciously warping his tone,

"I don't understand, Penny. Why would you keep a book like this?" He opened the book at random and read, "'Incarcerous: used to tie up enemies and render them immobile'."

Riddle's penetrating eyes landed on Hermione. He raised a questioning eyebrow and asked, his voice like soft silk with a sharp edge hidden underneath,

"A spell often used in duels. Why would a Mudblood like yourself keep such a book?"

Hermione stared at him. Her breathing was fast and she trembled under Riddle's scrutiny. As no answer came, Riddle snapped the book shut and leaned closer to her. Hermione shied a bit away from him. Slowly he raised a hand. His eyes never released her as he softly skimmed his fingers over her cheek. Hermione fearfully trembled under his touch. Dark amusement burned up in Riddle's cold eyes as he saw it. His fingers slowly wandered from her cheek down until his hand came to a halt lying on her shoulder, his thumb softly soothing over the skin of her neck. Hermione was sure he could feel her pulse racing away directly under her skin.

"It is pretty clear that, being a  _Mudblood_ -" Riddle said, smiling a dark smile. "-your magic is ridiculously weak. So tell me…"

His fingers on her shoulder tightened threateningly. Blue eyes pitilessly cut into her and the evil smile on his face grew, as Riddle whispered,

"What made you keep this book? Why did you pick up that wand yesterday? You can't read and you are unable to use proper spells, so why?"

His words were no different from what all wizards always threw at her. Hermione had got used to the debasement long ago. But then why were tears now brimming in her eyes? Something weighed down on her chest and tied up her throat. How could Riddle manage to unbury the sadness she kept locked away? Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She ripped her gaze away from those unforgiving blue orbs and cast her head down. As soon as she did that the hand on her shoulder painfully tightened its grip and Riddle hissed at her commandingly,

"Look at me!"

Quickly Hermione obeyed. Riddle grinned at her maliciously and repeated, "Why did you steal that wand? It is useless in your hands. Why do you waste your time and – even more importantly – that of your Masters with things you will never understand?"

Hermione shuddered as she stared into those deep blue eyes. There was sadistic pleasure burning in them, mocking her. Riddle's scorn shook her. She didn't understand why he affected her so strongly. With ease he ripped open old wounds. Caught up in a turmoil of emotions, Hermione opened her mouth and whispered,

"I can."

A dark shadow fell over Riddle's face and he asked, dangerously calm, "What was that?"

Hermione gritted her teeth as she looked at him. She needed to take back her rash words.  _Apologize, quickly!_  Instead of an apology words of defiance left her,

"I  _can_  understand magic."

Hermione had no idea what had gotten into her. First she insulted him yesterday and now she kept being insolent. Riddle would punish her now. She knew it and her body trembled fearfully at the prospect of the pain.

"I very much doubt you understand even the simplest of spells, Penny," Riddle said, voice laced with cruel mock. "Mudbloods are unable to comprehend magic like us Purebloods can."

Convinced that she would get a beating anyway, Hermione let her emotions get the better of her and snapped at Riddle,

"If I'm so stupid and my magic's so weak, then why could I curse you yesterday? Maybe  _you_  don't get the hang of magic!"

For a moment Riddle did not react. She thought she saw a glint of triumph in his blue eyes. But that couldn't be possible. It was gone in a second, leaving behind the usual emotionless mask. Hermione braced herself for the fury that would surely hit her. But then all Riddle said was,

"We'll discuss this another time."

Hermione blinked at him in surprise. She had expected a lot, but not this. Riddle said nothing more and stood up from the table. Seeing this, Hermione automatically shot up from her chair. She couldn't remain seated when he stood. As she sprang up a wave of dizziness hit her hard. She stumbled, trying to regain her balance. A hand grabbed her by her arm, preventing her from falling down.

"Easy," a soft voice whispered to her. "You've regained your sharp tongue, but you're still not completely well, are you?"

Hermione's head spun and she felt ill. Still, she managed to press out, "I'm fine."

"Sure," came the sarcastic reply.

She raised her head and looked up at Riddle. He held her by her arm and eyed her, his face a blank mask. Suddenly a strange greedy look seeped into his eyes as they wandered over her. It made Hermione shudder. She tensed as Riddle snaked an arm around her waist and led her over to his bed. Maybe he hadn't lashed out at her because he had a different punishment in mind? Hermione's breathing accelerated. Riddle wasn't going to  _touch_  her, was he? Panic grew in her. As they reached his bed Hermione was utterly afraid. She had heard stories about masters forcing themselves on their Mudbloods. That greedy look Riddle threw her way was more than unsettling. He removed his arm from her and pushed her down on the bed. Distraught by his actions Hermione started to tremble. Riddle raised an eyebrow as he saw the fear welling up in her eyes. He sighed and then said languidly,

"I'm not going to punish you for your snark, even though I probably should. So calm down."

He reached for the drawer of the bedside table and retrieved a potion vial. He pressed it into Hermione's hands and ordered her,

"Drink it."

Then he turned away and left her alone. Hermione's body relaxed as he stepped away from her. Riddle gracefully sat down on the sofa and started reading in his book. Reassured that he really seemed to leave her alone Hermione looked at the potion vial in her hand. She removed the stopper and as ordered drank. Warmth spread through her body and she snuggled comfortably into the soft blanket. Soon after she was swept away by a wave of tiredness.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **And thus, while all the world may laud**

**The gifts of love and loyalty,**

**I lay my meed of gratitude**

**Before thy feet, mine enemy!'**

**Lucy Maud Montgomery**

**(*1874 †1942)**


	7. By Every Word

Riddle lazily twirled the wand through his long fingers as he glared at the Founders' book. It had helped him find Ravenclaw's Diadem, but now turned into a dead-end. No glue on the whereabouts of the other three objects was hidden between the book's pages. He would have to go over the text again. A frustrated sigh left Riddle. His gaze left the troublesome book and wandered to the small form lying on his bed. The Mudblood was fast asleep. A malicious smirk twisted Riddle's features as he raised the wand and pointed it at the sleeping girl.

"Crucio."

Riddle's magic was eager to comply. Full of the sweetest of dark intents it rushed into the wand and…

… promptly crashed into a wall. No curse left the wand and the Mudblood girl remained to be asleep, quite peacefully.

 _Useless piece of wood._ Riddle wrinkled his nose in disgust as he eyed the bright-red wand in his hand. Obviously Penny's stupid toy-wand would sooner burst into two than let anything stronger than a Tickling Charm pass. Now completely revolted, Riddle threw the red wand into the fireplace. While the flames feasted on the worthless wood, Riddle was hit by the urge to throw the Founders' book into the fire as well. His frosty blue eyes wandered back to Penny. She was still fast asleep, her body defensively curled into a small ball.

Maybe the little Mudblood could distract Riddle a bit from the annoying Founders. After all, a lot of inconsistencies had accumulated around her person. She was not as stupid and uneducated as he had initially thought. What really interested Riddle, though, was her unexpectedly strong magic and the role she had played in taking down Ravenclaw's wards.

Dirty-blooded or not, Penny could prove to be quite useful, Riddle decided as he pondered her. Maybe he should just force her to spill her secrets? After all, Riddle's own wand was a lot more obliging when it came to the Torture Curse. Obviously Penny was no stranger to violence, but Riddle was confident that he could still break the girl.

A sadistic smile tugged at his lips and his fingers itched to pull his wand. Then again, there was no need rushing the matter. If his suspicions were correct, then Penny was a lot more powerful than expected. In that case, Riddle intended to exploit her powers. Broken and scared of him, she wouldn't be of much use.

Riddle's cold gaze rested on the Mudblood, the evil smile never having left his face. He had other ways of getting the truth. After all, he could be very persuasive. Riddle snickered softly. Draco really was an idiot for having left Penny with him.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione was at a loss.

She had woken a few hours ago and Riddle had yet to speak to her. Seemingly he was absorbed in that book he always read, but every so often Hermione could feel his penetrating gaze on her. It made her stomach churn with fear. Any attention a wizard showed her was usually bad news. On top of that, Riddle still had to punish her for her rebellious behaviour from the day before.

Hermione was in a gloomy mood as she washed the dishes – by hand as she somehow couldn't find her capped wand. Riddle was still busy with his mysterious book. Copying something, his quill danced over a roll of parchment.

"Say, Penny, the book I found on you, are you able to perform all the charms described there?" Riddle asked airily.

Hermione tensed as she heard the unexpected question. Slowly she turned around to him. Riddle still sat bent over his parchment, not even looking up at her.

"I… How-" Hermione swallowed thickly. "How would  _I_  be able to do that?"

Riddle stopped his writing and looked up at her. He arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Of course you can't cast them. How silly of me," he replied carelessly. "Even the easiest of charms should be beyond you."

Hermione pressed her lips tightly together. She wanted to shake him and show him how much this was ' _beyond'_  her. She knew, though, she needed to play her 'stupid' role. Suddenly a smile took form on Riddle's face, flashing his white teeth at her. The smile changed him completely. Suddenly Riddle didn't look so intimidating anymore but rather…

… _attractive?_

"Please," he said kindly. "Sit down."

Hermione hesitated but as he patted on the sofa, still his smile in place, she obeyed. Nervously she sat on the edge, trying to have as much space between herself and the wizard as possible.

"Are you sure you don't know how to use those charms?" Riddle asked gently.

Hermione's heart sank. He didn't want to drop the matter. Afraid her shaky voice would give her away, Hermione only nodded. Riddle slid closer to her, his leg now gently brushing against her own. Her head was bent, curly hair obscuring her face.

"Well, you  _are_  just a Mudblood," Riddle mused, scanning her contemplatively. "It's not your fault that you're stupid. The cerebral cortex of Mudbloods is significantly thinner than in Purebloods and is lesser developed. Clearly your intellectual capacity is limited."

An odd mixture of anger and hopelessness hit Hermione. Those arguments, she knew. How could she prove Riddle wrong? Crack her skull open and show him that her brain was no different from his own?

"Makes it all the more intriguing-" Riddle continued innocently. "-that you managed to overcome Ravenclaw's ward."

Hermione stopped breathing at the word ' _ward'_. Did he mean the warding magic around the oak tree? Hermione felt her blood freeze over with dread. Riddle wasn't supposed to know that  _she_  took down that ward. She wasn't allowed to use a wand and she certainly wasn't supposed to know that kind of magic.

"Who is Ravenclaw?" Hermione asked, hoping to distract Riddle.

He arched an amused eyebrow and lectured, "Rowena Ravenclaw was a very powerful witch. Although she lived a thousand years ago, her theories and workings are in many magical fields still accepted. She is also famous for having founded the very first school for magic."

Nervously Hermione chewed on the inner side of her cheek. She couldn't tell Riddle that she had the habit of sneaking into the Malfoys' library and reading books she was forbidden to even touch. After all, Riddle had almost chocked her just because she had opened one of his books.

"So?" Riddle pressed on. "How  _did_  you destroy Ravenclaw's ward? That was quite impressive."

Hermione blushed slightly at his praise. Riddle's sharp eyes narrowed marginally as he saw it. Still, the friendly smile on his face never wavered.

"I didn't," Hermione asserted shakily. "I swear, that ward just fell, Master Riddle. It had nothing to do with me."

"Then why did you pick up that wand?"

"I… I…" Hermione stuttered frantically. "I don't know. I saw that wand and… and I didn't think. I just wanted to… touch a real wand."

As Riddle just continued to fix her with a steady gaze, Hermione shuffled nervously in her seat and whispered pathetically,

"Sorry."

It made him snicker softly. Riddle slid even closer to her. To be in close proximity to a wizard always scared Hermione, but with Riddle it was even worse. Hermione could not read him at all. She cringed as his fingers lightly skimmed over her cheek. It would have been an intimate contact, maybe even welcome, if it hadn't been for Riddle's absolutely emotionless eyes. It seemed there was nothing behind those beautiful orbs of blue. Riddle leaned a bit down to her so he could speak into her ear. Amusement tinted his silky voice as he spoke to her. As soon as his sweet words hit her, Hermione knew that Riddle was a liar.

"Little Mudblood, you don't need to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

_._._._._

For the rest of the day, Riddle did not bring up the matter of Ravenclaw's ward again. Still, Hermione was unbalanced and jumpy as she did her chores.

It was rather late, probably after midnight, that Hermione stood beside the sofa. Riddle once again was obsessed with his book, and she waited for any orders. Her feet hurt and she was getting tired. Hermione suppressed a yawn as she watched how Riddle turned another page in his book. Before he continued to read, he slightly turned his head and looked over at her. Hermione tensed as she was hit by his gaze.

"You look dead on your feet, Penny. Why don't you lie down a bit?" he said in his smooth voice.

Hermione couldn't help it, her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y- yes, Master Riddle."

An amused smirk touched his lips as Riddle heard her hasty reply. Then he lost interest in her and looked back at his book. Hermione didn't wait to see if he changed his mind again. She turned and quietly crossed the room. As she reached the rug, lying in the corner beside the kitchenette, she sank down on it. Trying to find a comfortable position, she curled around herself on the small rug. Once again, Hermione was happy about having been given her new clothes. Maybe tonight she wouldn't have to feel so cold. She closed her eyes and pressed her knees against her chest, preserving all the warmth. Before she could drift off to sleep a deep voice interrupted her,

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione's eyes shot open. Riddle was standing right beside her. An expression of mild curiosity washed over his face as he regarded her. Hermione hastily scrambled up from the floor. She stared at Riddle anxiously. Had she misunderstood his dismissal?

"Is… is there something you needed, Master Riddle?"

As a reply a sharp frown appeared on his face and Hermione pressed herself fearfully against the wall behind her.

"You are not going to sleep on the floor," Riddle snapped.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him. Hermione's eyes grew wider and wider as he led her over to the bed Draco had used before he left. Riddle gestured at the bed and said,

"You'll sleep here."

Hermione's gaze wandered from the bed to him and she stared at him confused.

"That is Master's bed," she mumbled timidly.

Riddle cocked an eyebrow at her. "So what?"

"I… I can't just take… He would never allow me to…"

He continued to eye her unimpressed then Riddle sighed. "You're quite the troublemaker, aren't you?"

Hermione quickly shook her head, causing an amused smirk to appear on his face. He stepped closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. Hermione tensed in his arms. Her breathing accelerated which only caused her to breathe in more of his scent. Riddle smelled good. It seemed to cloud her senses so that she felt inclined to rest her head against his chest. But Hermione couldn't very well cuddle with him. Riddle's fingers skimmed over her cheek, making her gasp softly. A soft chuckle washed over her.

"Malfoy's gone."

Riddle stepped away from her and Hermione was hit by a strange feeling of loss. She flinched as Riddle suddenly pulled his wand. Ignoring her fear, he waved his wand at her. There was a fluttery feeling around her. After that her clothes lay in a neat stack on a nearby chair and Hermione was left wearing a black t-shirt. The shirt was a few sizes too big for her and reached her mid thighs. Riddle smirked down at her before he raised his hands and put them on her shoulders. Gently he turned her around and pushed her towards the bed.

"From now on you sleep here."

Baffled, Hermione obeyed and lay down on the bed. She watched how Riddle strolled over to the sofa, a self-satisfied expression on his face. Soon tiredness overcame Hermione and she snuggled into the warm blanket. Shortly before sleep pulled her down, she contently noted how the black shirt smelled of him.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The next day right after breakfast – which Riddle had again shared with Hermione – he did not start his reading as usual but instead ordered her,

"Get over here."

Hermione quickly obeyed, fear bubbling up in her. Had she done something wrong? Her gaze darted to his face but it was once again unreadable. Hermione tried to suppress the tremble in her voice as she bowed before Riddle and asked,

"How can I help you, Master Riddle?"

She peered up at him and almost jumped as she found a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"No," Riddle said in his silky voice. "The question is how I can help you."

As he saw the confusion on Hermione's face, Riddle raised his wand and waved it at the chest of drawers standing not far away. Hermione watched in wonder as one drawer opened and a wand soared out of it. She immediately recognized it. The wand flew through the air towards Riddle, who caught it deftly. He never released Hermione from his penetrating gaze as he slowly extended his hand to her, offering her the wand. Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers as she stared at the wand in his hand. Slowly, very slowly, she raised her face at Riddle and looked at him helplessly.

"I know I'm not allowed to have a wand."

Riddle merely arched an elegant eyebrow. "Well, yes. But I'm permitting you to have one now."

She glanced up at him anxiously, not daring to move and reach for the wand.

"Come on," Riddle said soothingly. "I know you can cast Aresto momentum."

As Hermione opened her mouth, he raised his hand to stop her. "No need to deny it. I've seen you doing it. I just want to know what other spells you are able to perform."

As Hermione still hesitated to accept the wand he added, "I promise you won't get punished for using it."

She didn't feel at all reassured but driven by a destructive desire to once again hold a wand, Hermione raised a shaky hand. She knew it was deeply wrong. She, a Mudblood, having a wand? Her fingers curled around the wand and she almost gasped. Her magic freely rushed into the wood, thrilled to have free reign. A small hesitant smile lit up Hermione's face as she looked down at the wand in her hand.

_A real wand!_

"I see you do have an affinity for that wand," Riddle's silky voice told her.

Distracted by the ecstatic state her magic was in, Hermione had completely forgotten he was still there. She tensed and looked up at him.

"Well?" Riddle inquired amusedly. "Do you like it?"

The smile on her face widened until she was positively beaming up at him. "Yes. Thank you!"

"Let's practise a few spells," he suggested lightly.

Hermione's fingers excitedly tightened around the wand in her hand.

"Yes, Master Riddle," she replied happily.

"Let's start with something easy first," Riddle said silkily. "Show me a Stunner."

Hermione nodded at him and raised her wand. An exhilarating feeling hit her as she waved the wand and allowed her magic to stream through the wood.

"Stupefy."

A red light left the wand's tip and soared through the tent. With a small crack it impacted on the wall. Riddle pursed his lips in contemplation. Then he said,

"Not bad."

A shy smile washed over Hermione's face.

"Can you tell me the counter spell to the Stunner?" Riddle asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Ennervate. Though the Stunner will wear off with time even without the counter curse."

Riddle smirked as he heard her answer so readily. "I see. How would you protect yourself against a Stunner then?"

"The Protego charm," Hermione instantly replied.

Riddle nodded as his gaze wandered over her eager face. He gestured at the wand in her hand and encouraged,

"Go on."

Hermione smiled and quickly waved the wand in the familiar movement while she cried, "Protego."

As soon as the blue shield flawlessly protected her, Riddle waved his own wand. He didn't say the incantation verbally but a red light left his wand's tip and rushed towards Hermione. She shuddered slightly as she felt the Stunner detonating with her shield. It held.

"Very good," Riddle said as he eyed her bluish shield.

Hermione's smile widened under his praise. With a wave of her wand she ended the Protego charm. Riddle raised an inquiring eyebrow as he continued to quiz her,

"What are the disadvantages of the Protego charm?"

"It's a rather weak shield and can only ward off minor curses."

"That's right," he said, making Hermione beam proudly. "What other shield charms do you know?"

"Well, there's Protego Horribilis and Protego Totalis," Hermione said quickly. "Then is the Arceo shield or the Defensio-"

"Correct," Riddle said. "How about we try the Arceo shield? Did you ever use it before?"

Hermione nervously shook her head.

"Do you know the incantation?"

"Arceberis?" she mumbled.

Riddle inclined his head in approval. Then he raised his wand. In one fluid movement he brandished it and said,

"Arceberis."

Instantly a yellow shield sprang up out of no-where. Like a bubble it completely surrounded Riddle.

"Did you see the wand movements?" he asked, his voice strangely muffled behind the shield.

Hermione nodded. With that Riddle cancelled his spell and ordered, "Try it."

Hermione raised her wand and waved it. She felt rather clumsy in comparison to Riddle's smooth movements but she still manage to summon the yellow shield. It was a duller than the one Riddle had conjured but he still said,

"Hm, on your first try. I'm impressed. Let's see how strong it is, shall we?"

Hermione's hand nervously tightened around the wand. Riddle slashed his wand through the air. A dark spell detached itself from his wand. It crackled with magic as it sizzled through the air towards Hermione. Riddle's curse slammed into her yellow shield. It shuddered heavily with the impact. Then the shield cracked and broke down. Before his curse could hit Hermione, Riddle cancelled it. The remnants of the curse's power were still enough to push Hermione a step away. Her chest hurt lightly as Riddle commented,

"That wasn't too bad. Though you need to practise the shield a bit so it gets stronger." A rather vicious smirk curved his lips as he asked, "Care to duel?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she blinked at Riddle. He wasn't serious was he?

"D- duel…?"

Riddle didn't reply anything but swiftly raised his wand and said clearly, "Tarantallegra."

Hermione wasn't ready at all. The curse hit her and before she knew what happened her legs started to move on their own accord, dancing like crazy. With shaky movements, Hermione waved her wand and cried,

"Finite!"

Thankfully the uncontrolled dancing stopped. Hermione stood, breathing hard, and gazed over at Riddle. Smirk still in place, he again brandished his wand and said,

"Incarcerous."

Instantly thick ropes sprang from his wand's tip and flew towards Hermione. Not wanting to get hit again, she quickly flourished her wand.

"Protego!"

The now familiar blue shield protected Hermione and Riddle's ropes uselessly fell on the floor where they disappeared. She narrowed her eyes at him, scanning him suspiciously. Riddle held his wand loosely in his hand and smirked nonchalantly at her. Hermione huffed at his relaxed posture. He didn't expect any form of counter attack, did he? Angrily Hermione released the Protego shield and used the same wand movement to send a spell at Riddle.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Riddle very lazily whirled his wand and Hermione's spell was easily averted. She glared at him darkly which in turn made him arch a mocking eyebrow. Not needing any more of an invitation, Hermione irritably slashed her wand through the air and cried,

"Rictusempra."

Again Riddle barely had to raise his wand to ward it off. He even smirked at her and scoffed,

"If that's all you got, you could have used your old toy-wand."

Anger was now definitely burning up in Hermione. She pressed her lips in a thin line as she glared at Riddle. A spell she had read about just recently came to her mind. Yes, that might work. Hermione whirled her wand, trying hard to not mess up the movements, and said clearly,

"Duro!"

A pale yellow spell raced towards Riddle and Hermione was quite satisfied to see his eyes widening slightly with surprise. Before the yellow spell could slam into his chest, Riddle quickly moved his wand. As if an invisible force crashed laterally into Hermione's spell, it was suddenly diverted from its original trajectory. Instead of hitting Riddle it impacted with a paraffin lamp, standing by the sitting area. Instantly the lamp turned into stone, fell from the table and shattered.

"I see. Not that useless, are you?" Riddle mocked lightly. "Let's step this up."

He raised his wand and flicked it. He never said the incantation and soon an unknown curse rushed towards Hermione. She had no idea what it could be and quickly raised another Protego shield. In no time Riddle's curse had reached her and cut through her Protego as if it were paper. Hermione barely had a second before the curse would hit her. Quickly she hurled herself out of the way. Still, Riddle's curse sliced her arm. She gasped as she could feel it leaving behind a deep cut in her upper arm. Hermione ended up lying on the floor and instinctively swirled her wand, conjuring another shield.

_Paries!_

A thick shield erected itself around her like a dome. Hermione cringed as she felt a heavy impact on her shield. Riddle again attacked and she felt his power reverberating through her whole magic. He was ripping her shield apart, still that infuriating smirk on his face. Hermione quickly scrambled up from the floor. There was blood flowing down her arm, soaking into her pullover.

_Damn. He wasn't joking about stepping it up._

Hermione determinedly grabbed her wand. If Riddle thought she would just give up, he would have to think again. Her gaze fell on the kitchen table and she narrowed her eyes in contemplation.

_Might work…_

Another of Riddle's attacks hit her shield and it yielded completely. Quickly Hermione raised her wand, biting her lower lip in concentration as she waved it at the table.

_Bestia Verto._

There was an incredibly strong pull at her magic. Hermione almost lost her focus. The spell still worked. The kitchen table trembled shortly. Then it changed. Fur grew and strong muscles took form. Hermione was especially delighted as she saw razor sharp teeth appear. Not long and a fully-grown spotted hyena stood at the table's place. It was incredibly huge and easily weighted more than a hundred and fifty pounds. Its hackles were raised aggressively as it snarled angrily at Riddle. Completely ignoring Hermione, the hyena sprang into action and pounded towards Riddle.

It was extremely satisfying to see him stumble a step back, confronted with the furious animal. Riddle waved his wand. Unimpressed, the hyena crouched on the floor, ready to jump and sink its sharp teeth into Riddle's neck. Hastily he again waved his wand, just as the hyena pounced at him. In the air, the animal transformed back into the table. Before the table could hit Riddle he again flicked his wand. It burst into splinters and rained down on him.

Hermione was quite disappointed with how easily Riddle had warded her attack off. She couldn't dwell on it as suddenly he attacked again. A dangerously crackling curse sizzled towards her. Hermione had no idea what it could be, so she jumped out of the way and quickly crawled behind the couch. Riddle sent another curse her way. It slammed into the couch, sending feathers everywhere. Hermione gritted her teeth and peered at Riddle over the backrest of the sofa. He grinned at her smugly and even had the audacity to give her a mock bow.

_That's it!_

Furiously, Hermione slashed her wand through the air while thinking,  _Aequore._ Out of thin air, a huge wave of water formed itself. Hermione threw that cocky grin right back at Riddle as she flicked her wand. The wave of water crashed over him with force. He managed to break most of the water's fury with a hastily erected shield. Still as Hermione's conjured wave disappeared, Riddle was soaking wet, looking like a drowned cat. A few strands of his dark hair were plastered to his forehead and Riddle wiped them angrily away. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him.

Riddle's icy eyes landed to her. At least the smirk was gone. He waved his wand. The couch in front of Hermione disappeared into a wisp of black smoke. Another wave of Riddle's wand and his magic descended upon Hermione. She couldn't do anything as she was pushed to the floor, Riddle's magic preventing any movement. Hermione struggled against the bonds as she heard soft steps coming towards her. Hermione looked up at Riddle. He still had his wand pointed at her, maintaining his hold. A jolt of fear rushed through Hermione, but she felt strangely re-assured as suddenly the smirk was back on Riddle's face.

"Not that bad," he told her silkily. "…for a Mudblood."

Hermione stared at him with huge eyes. He waved his wand and she was suddenly free to move again. While she stood up Riddle again brandished his wand, repairing everything in the room. As his attention dropped back to her, Hermione raised her wand at him and whispered,

"Seresce."

Quickly the water disappeared and Riddle's clothes dried. He flashed his white teeth at her and raised his own wand. A quick wave and the sharp pain in Hermione's arm was gone. Even her pullover repaired itself.

"Thank you, Master Riddle," said Hermione, still breathless from the duel.

She smiled up at him. Riddle raised an amused eyebrow and commented, "I knew you're quite good with magic. You didn't have to lie about it."

The compliment made Hermione blush. A smile crossed Riddle's face. He seemed to be quite pleased with her and she felt proud.

"I think we'll continue this lesson tomorrow," Riddle suggested.

Her eyes lit up and she eagerly nodded. "Can we really?"

He chuckled softly. "I don't see why not."

Hermione didn't know what it was – maybe her excited magic rushing through her or the adrenalin from the duel – but she temporarily forgot her place. She stepped closer to Riddle and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you."

The words had barely left her mouth as she realized what she had just now done. Her arms were still wrapped around Riddle, but her whole body froze over with panic. As if having been burned by him, Hermione hastily removed her arms from Riddle. Her eyes wide with fear, she took a shaky step away from him and immediately averted her gaze.

"I- I'm sorry," she stammered fearfully. "I shouldn't have done that. Please, forgive me, Master Riddle."

He didn't reply in any way and Hermione's fear spiralled up. Suddenly Riddle took a step towards her. His fingers were clasping her chin and she trembled under his touch. Then he forced her face up. Hermione could hear her pulse thundering away in her ears as she stared up at Riddle. Surprisingly enough, on his face wasn't the expected angry snarl. He looked calm and composed like always, his blue eyes studying her face.

It was then that Riddle leaned down to her. Hermione didn't know what to expect and pressed her eyes shut. Her thoughts came to an abrupt standstill as Riddle's lips brushed against hers, barely touching. The fleeting contact sent shivers down Hermione's spine. Her head swirled and she didn't know what to do. It was Riddle who solved her problem. Hesitation gone, he pressed his mouth tightly over hers. His hand cupped her cheek while he moved his lips against hers. Although Hermione still didn't dare to respond in any way, she couldn't deny that strange fluttery feeling in her stomach. It urged her to lean in, to…

Abruptly Riddle broke the kiss. Hermione looked up at him, dazed. He scanned her, his blue eyes slowly raking over her. While she felt incredibly shaky on her feet, a smirk started to curl up Riddle's mouth.

"Give me the wand," he ordered, his tone poised just as if nothing special had just now happened.

Hermione blinked and forced herself out of that stupor she had fallen into. She offered him the wand. Riddle took it and slipped it into his pocket. Hermione watched, feeling unsteady with emotion. This had been her first kiss! she realized with shock. It had been surprisingly nice, even though Riddle was a wizard. During it Hermione hadn't been scared. She had enjoyed it even. To her horror, she felt a heat wave hitting her face. Riddle snickered as he saw her blush and a rather smug look crossed his face.

"Come on," he said amusedly. "Let's sit down."

Riddle strolled over to the sitting area and waved for Hermione to join him. She mechanically followed him and plopped down on the sofa beside him.

"Why didn't you want to admit that you actually  _can_  use all those charms in your little book?" Riddle inquired conversationally.

Hermione breathed in deeply, trying to gather her thoughts. "B- because Master would never approve of me knowing the spells."

It was strange that Riddle would ask something so obvious. Still caught up in her state of shock, Hermione didn't anticipate Riddle's next question at all.

"Which spell did you use to destroy Ravenclaw's ward?"

Hermione took in a sharp breath of air, unsettled by the abrupt change of topic. She could only stutter stupidly,

"I- I didn't destroy it."

"You really didn't?" An innocent smile played around Riddle's mouth. "A pity. There was a complex charm involved, holding the whole ward together. I would have loved to discuss how you destroyed it."

Hermione couldn't think straight. The feeling of his mouth on hers still ghosted over her lips. So, she automatically corrected him, reverting to her know-it-all voice,

"It was a curse. Not a charm. It enhanced the properties of the ward, clearly with ill-intend towards the victims of that warding system. Hence, it was a curse."

Riddle glanced at her. As Hermione saw dark triumph burning up in his blue eyes, she knew she had messed up. Slowly a smirk curled up his lips and he said languidly,

"Really? Might I ask how you know that? After all, only someone who tried to manipulate the ward would know about the curse."

Hermione's blood turned cold as she heard it. Terror invaded her and she stared at Riddle with wide eyes. His blue eyes glinted maliciously as he concluded,

"You were the one who broke down the ward, Penny, weren't you?"

Fear coursing through her, Hermione knew she had lost. There was no way out of this one so she confessed shakily, "I- I- We were trapped. I didn't know what else to do…"

Quickly the reassuring smile fell from Riddle's lips and now a disturbingly hungry glint burned up in his eyes. They wandered over Hermione, greedily taking her in. She felt vulnerable and naked under Riddle's hard gaze.

"How did you know how to take the ward down?" he demanded to know.

Hermione's breathing was shallow and she gulped nervously.

"I asked you a question," Riddle said sharply.

By now there was a threatening tint in his voice. Hermione recoiled from him and her stomach turned into a fearful knot. Shyly she glanced up at him. The easy smile had long since left his face and the understanding warmth in his eyes had gone out.

"Please, Master Riddle," Hermione whispered shakily. "It was just luck. I- I really don't know any powerful spells."

Riddle glared at her, clearly telling her that he was not buying it.

"B- books," Hermione stuttered, hoping he wouldn't ask where she found those books. "I read a lot of books?"

"Hm," Riddle made.

He snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Hermione tensed as she felt him so near that his body heat was flowing through to her. His fingers carded in a very possessive gesture through her curly hair. Riddle's nearness, his every touch, made jolts of fear flashing through her. Curiously, though, her fear was interrupted by memories of their shared kiss. It made her blush as she realized a small part of her enjoyed Riddle's nearness.

_._._._._

He had known it, Riddle thought contently while he scanned the little Mudblood. She was indeed quite powerful. How that could be, considering her dirty blood, Riddle did not know. Still, her magic was certainly something valuable. Riddle's emotionless eyes wandered over her. The Mudblood still lay in his arms. His close proximity seemed to scare her. Riddle loved that intimidated look on her. She even blushed. He could work with that…

How could a mere Mudblood be so powerful? Penny was a paradox. In the end, though, it was her magic Riddle was interested in. And magic was always pure even if locked in such an unworthy body.

"You are quite the puzzle, Penny," Riddle purred darkly. "It's a good thing I love solving them."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"It's rude to stare, you know that?"

Hermione stiffened and quickly mumbled, "I'm sorry, Master Riddle. I was just… just…"

"Curious?" Riddle supplied and his eyes wandered to her.

She nodded. He didn't react to her at all but just continued to scan her with his emotionless eyes.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he finally stated.

Hermione bit her lip hard. Seeing the fear building up in her, Riddle said lazily,

"Merlin, I'm not going to hurt you just because you stared at my book." His eyes wandered back to the book in question. "It's useless anyway."

"What's it about?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"The Founders of Hogwarts," Riddle replied while he scowled at the book. "Hogwarts is the school I go to. It has four Founders: Slytherin, Ravenclaw whom you already heard of, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. They were very talented witches and wizards and invented a lot of spells and potions. History also claims that each of them created an incredibly powerful object. Over time, those objects were lost and their existence slowly turned into legend."

Riddle stopped talking and again looked pensively at the book. Her curiosity now definitely sparked, Hermione inquired,

"What were those objects?"

"I don't see why you would need to know that," he snubbed at her.

"Sorry," Hermione quickly said. But then she again couldn't hold herself back and blurted out, "The Diadem is one of those objects, isn't it?"

Riddle peered at her shrewdly. "You are rather sharp, Penny. Yes, the Diadem was Rowena Ravenclaw's."

"I see… So, you are trying to find all four objects." Hermione was so deep in thought she didn't even notice how she talked out loud. "And now you need to find the other three…"

"Yes," Riddle said calmly. "That's the problem. I don't know where to search. And this-" He gestured at the book still lying on the table. "-is completely useless."

"Well, how did you find the Diadem?" Hermione inquired.

A rather nasty smirk appeared on his face, then Riddle drawled, "I actually talked with one of Ravenclaw's relatives."

She frowned at him. "They still live?"

The smirk on his face widened as he said, "No, not really."

Still lost in the story of Hogwarts' Founders, Hermione missed the dark inflection in his voice. Her eyes wandered over the heavy tome as she mused,

"Maybe you should do the same with the other three objects."

Riddle raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

Hermione didn't realize she eyed him as if she thought he was slow.

"Well, talk with the Founders' descendants, of course," she supplied in quite the bossy tone.

Riddle scowled at her and asked irritably, "And how do I find the descendants of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor?"

"How should I know?" Hermione replied snippily. Ignoring the angry expression on his face she continued, "Wait. Only Gryffindor and Hufflepuff? What about Slytherin? Do you already have his artefact?"

"No," Riddle said slowly.

"Then you know his descendants?"

He looked down at the golden ring on his finger as he replied in a dangerously soft voice, "Yes."

"Well, there you go," she lectured him obnoxiously "You should pay them a visit and ask them."

Riddle's eyes flickered back to her and Hermione tensed as she saw anger burning in them. With a loud thud he snapped the Founders' book shut, making her flinch away from him. A horrified expression appeared on her face as she realized what tone she had used with him. She had been so lost in the mystery of the Founders, she had completely forgotten whom she talked with.

"You might want to watch that tongue of yours," Riddle hissed at her threateningly. "Lest someone will cut it out of your mouth."

Hermione threw in a shaky breath of air. She averted her eyes from him and whispered, "I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"Yes, you were," he hissed at her.

His blue eyes rested on her quite heavily. After a while, Riddle informed her curtly,

"We are leaving tomorrow."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **You smiled, you spoke, and I believed,**

**By every word and smile deceived.**

**Another man would hope no more;**

**Nor hope I what I hoped before:**

**But let not this last wish be vain;**

**Deceive, deceive me once again!'**

**\- Walter Savage Landor**

**(*1775 †1864)**


	8. Cadmus

Feeling slightly disoriented, Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and dragged the huge backpack with her. She had to quickly get out of the way as the flames in the fireplace burned green again, admitting the next traveller. Tomorrow was New Year's Eve that was probably the reason the station was so crowded. Hermione shouldered the backpack and walked away from the rows and rows of fireplaces each with a queue of people.

Riddle hadn't waited for her but was on his way to leave the station. Hermione followed him outside the floo-network building and on London's busy streets. It was cold outside and a few snowflakes sailed down on the city's asphalt and concrete. Still, the cold had nothing on Albania's frosty mountains. Ignoring how the backpack's straps uncomfortably cut into her shoulders, Hermione caught up with Riddle. He wasn't acknowledging her presence in any way. A deep frown furrowed his brow. All morning Riddle had been in a horrible mood.

"Master Riddle?" Hermione mumbled tentatively.

He didn't respond at all. Hermione swallowed down her fear and whispered,

"Now that we are back in the UK. I need to – you know – return to my Master."

Riddle abruptly stopped walking. The frown on his face turned into a deep scowl. Hermione fidgeted under his steady gaze. The only answer she got was a decisive,

"No."

With that Riddle turned around and resumed his way. Hermione scurried after him.

"I really need to return, Master Riddle," she implored. "It's my duty."

"I don't care about your duties," he replied harshly. "You are going to stay with me until I tell you otherwise."

"Please," Hermione beseeched. "I'm going to get punished if I don't return."

"That really is not my problem," Riddle said meanly. "You stay with me. If you go against my wishes, _I_  will punish you. And believe me, that's going to be a lot worse than anything Malfoy could ever come up with."

Murderous threat smouldered in his blue eyes as he glared at her. "Do you understand me?"

Hermione nodded her head and surrendered, "Yes, Master Riddle."

Riddle ended the conversation and swiftly walked down the street. Hermione followed a few steps behind him, head bent. She wondered what she should do now. She really needed to return to Malfoy manor. It was probably a beating that awaited her there and the longer she stayed away the worse it would be. Sure, Draco had left her with Riddle, but Hermione knew the blond would blame her absence on her anyway.

In low spirits, Hermione eyed the back of Riddle's head. Maybe she should just run away from him and get back to the manor. She did consider it, but the image of that wonderful chestnut wand kept hovering through her thoughts. If she left Riddle, she would probably never again get the chance to use a real wand.

"In here."

Riddle pulled her into a side street, away from any Muggles, and apparated her away.

†

"So?" Hermione asked, panting heavily. "Where are we?"

She followed Riddle as he walked an icy road which meandered through snow covered fields. Hermione was breathing heavily and sweat covered her forehead. Riddle was walking fast and she had problems keeping up, carrying that heavy backpack.

"Little Hangleton," was his cryptic answer.

Out of breath, Hermione finally had to take a break. Annoyance glimmered in Riddle's eyes as he walked back to her. He gestured at the backpack and said curtly,

"Give that to me. We don't have the whole day."

After Riddle had thrown the backpack over his shoulder, they resumed their way. Hermione now had no problems keeping up with his long strides. Obviously they were headed for that big house on top of the hill. It looked like some kind of mansion.

"Why are we here?" Hermione dared to ask.

Riddle glared daggers at her. His bad mood obviously hadn't yet lifted. He snapped irritably,

"Wasn't it your idea?"

 _Not really_ , Hermione thought but didn't dare reply anything. They walked the rest of the way in silence until they stood before the mansion's gates. The estate looked impressive with its wide lawns and the beautiful manor. Hermione wondered if the building was even larger than the Malfoys'.  _Definitely larger than the Blacks'_ , she decided as her gaze wandered over the manor.

Riddle, on the other hand, had a sour look on his face as he glared at the building in distaste. With a subtle wave of his wand, he opened the gate. Hermione was confused that the manor's entrance wasn't protected by any wards. Usually, wizarding families put protective barriers and anti-appartion spells around their homes.

Riddle passed the iron gate and walked towards the manor. As they finally stood before the enormous entrance door, Hermione peered up at Riddle. The angry frown seemed to have become a permanent fixture on his face and he glowered at the wooden door. Then his chilly gaze fell on her. Hermione blinked up at him, not quite sure what to expect.

"Listen, Penny," Riddle said, voice tetchy and strained. "While we are here, I don't want you to call me 'Master'."

Hermione furrowed her brow, bewildered by the order. "Okay."

"And you definitely shouldn't use any magic," he added tightly.

Hermione nodded. Her confusion must have been visible on her face, because Riddle sighed annoyed.

"Okay," he hissed impatiently. "Before you make any mistakes, I should probably tell you that this is my family's house and my…  _father_  is a Muggle."

Hermione's eyes were like saucers as she gaped at him.

_Riddle is a Halfblood?_

The anger in Riddle's eyes grew to new dimensions as she kept ogling at him. He took a threatening step towards her and hissed,

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll make you regret it."

Hermione quickly nodded.

"No magic, understood?" Riddle darkly glared at the huge manor. "He doesn't like magic very much, my father."

He raised his hand and rang the bell. They waited for a moment before the huge door was being opened. A woman, probably in her late thirties, stood on the threshold. She was a tad bit on the chubby side. Her mousy hair was cut into a short bob and her skin was rather pale. Hermione noticed how the woman's eyes slightly looked into opposite directions. Nevertheless, her face glowed with friendly excitement as she spotted Riddle.

"Tommy!" the woman exclaimed, a wide smile on her face.

She stormed over to Riddle and wrapped her arms around him. Hermione saw Riddle tense as the woman hugged him and he barely raised his arms to return the gesture. The woman released him and smiled up at Riddle.

"You should have called," she chided, still grinning broadly.

She raised a hand and ran her fingers affectionately through Riddle's dark hair. He didn't look very comfortable with the situation.

"Look at you," the woman chortled cheerfully. "You've grown so much."

Then she eagerly grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house.

"Come in, come in."

It was only now that the woman spotted Hermione. Her face lit up even more and she said happily,

"Oh, you've brought your girlfriend?"

Riddle slightly turned his head and his icy blue eyes fell on a confused Hermione. After a moment he said in his deep emotionless voice,

"Yes."

Hermione's eyes widened at his answer but she didn't have much time to comprehend his statement as the woman now drowned her in a big hug.

"You are such a dear," the woman chirped cheerfully. "And so pretty. Of course you are Tommy's girlfriend."

In no time, Hermione was pulled into the house, out of her travel cloak and sat in the spectacular drawing room with a hot cup of tea in front of her. The woman placed a plate with sandwiches on the side table then she plopped down on the lush sofa right beside Riddle.

"If I had known you'd come, I would have prepared something better," she said as she happily ran her hand over Riddle's arm.

She looked at Hermione and exclaimed, "Oh, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself yet." She extended her hand to Hermione and said, "I'm Tommy's mother. My name is Merope."

Hermione shook the woman's hand and said timidly, "I'm Penny."

"It's so nice to meet you," replied Merope, beaming. Then she asked good-naturedly, "So, are you a witch?"

Hermione blinked at her. She just wanted to deny as Riddle cut over her, his voice laced with frost, "Luckily for you, mother, she  _is_  a witch. Otherwise you would have just broken the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy."

"Oh my," said Merope carelessly. "I completely forgot about that."

Riddle just angrily narrowed his eyes at his mother. Merope didn't seem to notice. She turned to Hermione and said proudly,

"Tommy is so smart. He always helps me out when I mess up."

Hermione only nodded at her.

"How long are you going to stay?" Merope inquired, looking at Riddle lovingly.

He shrugged and gazed back at her indifferently. "We won't be staying long."

Merope immediately shook her head. "No, no. You've got to stay at least until tomorrow. We need to celebrate your birthday."

Riddle sneered at that, "I doubt  _he_  will allow me to stay that long."

The happy smile on Merope's face fell as she heard that. She grabbed Riddle's hand and whispered sadly, "Don't say things like that. You know your father is happy to have you here."

Riddle just raised a sceptical eyebrow but didn't comment.

†

They sat for a while in the drawing room and talked. Well, it was more like Merope talked, interrupted by the occasional sharp comment from Riddle. Hermione didn't say much. She ate her sandwiches and listened. Riddle's mother was quite likable, always smiling and laughing. Strange, how the two of them were related…

Hermione heard the front door of the mansion being opened and someone stepped in. Riddle tensed as he heard it. Whoever had entered, they now walked through the entrance hall and towards the drawing room. It wasn't long and a man entered. Hermione was quite surprised as she saw him. From the black shiny hair, the pale skin and the fine aristocratic features, that man was a carbon copy of Riddle. They only differed in age as this man seemed to be Merope's age.

Wearing a perfectly tailored suit, the Riddle-copy looked very attractive as he stepped into the room, holding the Financial Times folded under his arm. He stopped in his tracks as his clear blue eyes settled on the group sitting on the luxurious sofa. As soon as his gaze landed on Riddle, the man's handsome features twisted up in disgust.

"What do  _you_  want here?" he asked sharply.

Riddle just arched a disinterested eyebrow. Then he drawled, sarcasm cruelly wrapped around his words,

"Well, what do you know,  _father_? Suddenly I was hit by the urge to visit my  _loving_  family."

The man – Riddle's father – narrowed his eyes irately. With a few angry steps he stood in front of the sofa. Glaring at his son, Riddle senior hissed menacingly,

"I don't want scum like you in my home!"

Now Merope sprang up from the couch. She stepped over to Mr Riddle and said sternly, "Tom! He's your  _son_."

Hermione saw Mr Riddle's hands curling into fists as he fought for composure. His wife's words must have reached him, because as he spoke next the murderous tinge had left his voice. Instead Riddle senior mocked harshly,

"I thought you had 'left for good'. What happened that made you crawl back?"

Traces of dark magic crackled around Riddle. He slowly got up from the couch and sent his father a look of pure hate. Riddle senior just snickered disdainfully,

"If you need money, forget it. I'm not paying for any more of your freakish stuff. You are eighteen, I'm not responsible anymore."

"I certainly don't need your money," Riddle sneered viciously.

"Ha," made Mr Riddle disbelievingly.

His frosty eyes shortly left his son and he spotted Hermione. Anger burned up in his eyes and he yelled at Riddle,

"Don't tell me you brought one of  _your_  people here. In my house!"

Livid glare in place Mr Riddle rounded on Hermione. She fearfully shied away from the furious man.

"Tell me, little girl," he hissed maliciously. "You are one of them, aren't you? One of those abnormal people."

Hermione didn't dare to look up at him and whispered in a soft voice, "I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude."

"Don't patronize me!" Riddle senior yelled at her, making Hermione flinch.

Merope stepped closer to her husband and laid a hand on his arm as she admonished decisively,

"Dear, she's a guest."

The irate snarl never left Riddle senior's face as he turned towards Merope and snapped, "She's  _not_  a guest! She's one of those freaks!"

He angrily pointed at Riddle and thundered, "And you, boy! Don't think you can just barge in here whenever it pleases you!"

Riddle wasn't in the least bit impressed by his father yelling at him. His eyes were free of any emotion and a disdainful smirk curled his mouth as he sneered,

"Believe me, it far from  _pleases_  me to be here."

Mr Riddle took a threatening step towards his son and snarled, "Watch your tongue! You won't insult me in my own house."

A dangerous glint appeared in Riddle's eyes as he was threatened. Slowly his hand wandered to his robe pocket. Then he said, his voice soft but deathly cold,

"And I won't have a  _Muggle_  speak to me like that."

At that the angry purple colour on Mr Riddle's face got even darker. His hands balled into fists and he took another step towards his son. Riddle's magic started to crackle around him and his hand disappeared into his robe pocket. Before either of the two men could do anything, Merope quickly stepped in front of her husband and laid a hand on his chest.

"Please," she said steadily. "Calm down, Tom."

Riddle senior didn't look down at his wife. Hate dripped from his gaze as it wandered over his son. Merope cautiously rubbed her hand over Mr Riddle's chest and said,

"Please, dear. It's Tommy's birthday tomorrow. Let him stay. They won't cause any trouble."

Mr Riddle's eyes narrowed to slits but at least he hesitated. Merope continued to rub her hand soothingly over his chest and whispered,

"I'll look after them. There won't be any problems. I promise."

At his wife's words, Riddle senior slowly caved in. After a while of glaring at his son, he finally growled,

"Fine. They can stay."

A relieved smile appeared on Merope's face. "Thank you, dear."

Riddle senior nodded sharply. Then his eyes snapped back to his son and he snarled, "But no funny business. Or I swear I'll call the police and have you locked away."

Riddle looked at his father for a second, disgust shining though his emotionless mask. Then he shrugged and drawled,

"Whatever you say,  _father_."

†

A dark-blue velvet bedspread covered the soft bed Hermione was sitting on. She watched Riddle as he paced the room. _Probably his own room_ , Hermione guessed. The floor was tiled with ebony, which perfectly fitted the elegant dark furniture. The wallpapers were pale green while dark green curtains with delicate golden ornaments hung by the windows. The room was very tidy, just as if someone religiously kept it neat. Still, it felt cold, sterile even, as it completely lacked any personal belongings.

Hermione watched Riddle's angry pacing. Since his little shouting match with his father, he hadn't said a word. The irate frown on his face, though, had gotten deeper. Hermione decided to disturb the uncomfortable silence and cleared her throat.

"So… It's your birthday tomorrow?"

Riddle threw her a dark glare and didn't answer.

"How old are you?" prodded Hermione tentatively.

He sighed in irritation and informed curtly, "I'll be eighteen tomorrow."

"Hm." She eyed him. "That's nice."

He furrowed his brow and sank down on the bed beside her. For a while he only glared at the room darkly. Then he asked irritably,

"How old are you?"

"Oh," made Hermione. "Er… I think sixteen or seventeen…? I don't know."

Slowly the furious scowl drained from Riddle's face, replaced by confusion. "You don't know?"

Hermione shook her head, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I forgot."

"How can you forget something like that?"

"I… er…" she struggled to explain. "As I entered the magical world I kind of decided to just… never think of anything that was before. So, over the time I forgot a lot."

By now curiosity had completely replaced the dark scowl on his face and Riddle asked, "Why would you want to forget your past?"

Hermione's eyes left Riddle and she stared out of the window. It was already dark outside, she noted absently.

"Otherwise, it hurts too much."

Riddle didn't comment. He stared at her for a moment, strange glint in his eyes. Then he got up and walked over to the door.

"Come. I'll show you your room."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was the next day that Hermione sat in the guest room on the comfortable leather couch with a book in her hand. They just had lunch in the drawing room. The food had been delicious. Obviously Merope had cooked something special for her son's birthday. It still had been awkward. The whole time Riddle and his father had thrown death glares at each other. Hermione was glad to be back in her room.

 _My_ _room…_ she giggled and still couldn't believe it.

There was a queen sized bed right under the broad window. A ridiculously large TV set was conveniently placed on the wall unit, so it could be used from the couch or the bed. The remote lay on the side table in front of Hermione, though she hadn't dared to touch it.

The events from the day before spooked thought her head. Riddle really was a Halfblood. How strange. Hermione shook her head. She had never met a Halfblood before. At least not knowingly. It wasn't something a wizard would go advertising with. Halfbloods weren't exactly accepted in society. Most of them were the product of a wizard taking advantage of a female Mudblood. Hermione shuddered at the terrible thought. If the poor woman got pregnant after the rape, the baby would usually be treated like a Mudblood.

In Riddle's case, though, this scenario wasn't true. After all, Merope seemed to be a witch while her husband was a Muggle. Hermione didn't think Mr Riddle had forced himself on his wife. It seemed like Merope had consciously made the decision to live with her husband like a Muggle.

Hermione was ripped from her thoughts by a knock at the door. Again a knock and she realized the polite gesture was directed at her.

"Y- yes?"

The door opened and Merope Riddle stepped in. She carried a tray with two glasses and a jug of lemonade while she beamed at Hermione.

"I hope I don't disturb you."

Hermione shook her head. Merope's smile widened and she walked over to the couch. She placed the tray on the side table before she sat on the couch.

"Everything alright?" Merope asked kindly.

Hermione quickly nodded. The woman smiled and offered her a glass of lemonade. Hermione accepted it and nervously gripped the glass in both hands.

"I'm so glad Tommy brought you with him," Merope said merrily. "You are the first friend he ever brought home. I'm sure that means something."

Hermione nodded again. Merope took a sip from her lemonade and grinned.

"The first  _girl_ friend he brought home, too." She nudged Hermione playfully in the side. "Tell me about yourself, Penny. I'm so curious."

"Er…" mumbled Hermione. "There really isn't much to say…"

Merope hummed and took a sip from her glass. "You are just like Tommy. He never tells me anything either."

An involuntary smile took form on Hermione's face as the woman kept calling Riddle 'Tommy'.

"Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"No. But I would really like to see it," said Hermione.

"Yes." Merope smiled. "I always wanted to go there myself. But my father didn't want that. He thought home-schooling would be better for me. So, my brother and I never went to Hogwarts." Her hazel eyes wandered over Hermione interestedly, "Are you home-schooled yourself?"

"Er…" Hermione squirmed in her seat. "Hm… yes…"

It wasn't exactly a lie, she told herself. She really had learned at 'home', if one could call Malfoy manor 'home' and sneaking into the library 'learning'.

Merope laughed merrily. "It seems we both missed out on Hogwarts, eh? But I'm sure you could visit Tommy there."

Hermione smiled vaguely. "Maybe."

"I've been there once, you know. That was during Tommy's fifth year." A proud twinkle appeared in Merope's eyes. "Dippet himself invited me because Tommy got a Special Award for Services to the School. He's such a good boy. He brings home nothing but straight 'O's and this year he even made Head Boy."

Hermione smiled softly as she spotted that loving expression on Merope's eyes. She wondered if her own mother would have looked like this if she hadn't… hadn't… There was a painful stab in Hermione heart as she thought of her mother. She tensed as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, Penny?"

"Yes, Mrs Riddle." Hermione forced a smile.

The other woman sent her a warm smile. "Call me Merope."

A happy glimmer appeared in Merope's eyes as she suggested, "After Tommy graduates, you two could come and live here until you know what you want to do next. It would be so nice having Tommy back. He doesn't visit often, you know. He's always so busy with studying."

Merope giggled and joked, "I wish there was a spell to turn him back into a baby, so I could cuddle with him all day."

Hermione smiled at the notion.

"Ah well, you can't turn back time." Merope took another sip from her lemonade. "It wouldn't be such a good idea anyway. We really had a hard time, back then."

Hermione's curiosity awakened, she asked cautiously, "What do you mean?"

A sad expression appeared on Merope's face and Hermione immediately regretted having posed the question.

"As I got pregnant, I had a huge fight with Tom," Merope said quietly. "We were much too young. Neither of us knew how to handle the situation."

Hermione nodded and asked gently, "Couldn't your family help you? Or Mr Riddle's?"

Merope shook her head, sadness on her face. "No. My family never approved of my relationship with Tom. They didn't want to have anything to do with Muggles. And Tom's family wasn't supportive either."

"Did you…" Hermione didn't know if she could dare to ask the question. "Did you ever consider to… you know… not to have the baby?"

Despite the nature of the question Merope smiled softly. "No. Never."

She sighed softly and leaned back on the couch. Her brown eyes wandered over Hermione as she continued gravely, "That was one of the many reasons I got into the fight with Tom. We broke up then and I left Little Hangleton."

"Oh," made Hermione. "Where did you go?"

"London." Merope laughed mirthlessly. "Me in the big city with no money and no clue."

Hermione worried her lip as she stared at Merope. "That must have been horrible."

"Yes, it wasn't easy," Merope sighed. "I got a little money from selling an old family heirloom but it wasn't much. I'm not proud of that time, but back then I went begging on the streets and even stole from people. I remember I was also out on the streets as I went into labour."

"Merlin," Hermione exclaimed, horrified.

"I was very lucky that it happened not far away from a children's home," Merope continued her story. "Someone from the staff must have found me. I can't remember much. I was in a lot of pain."

"Then you got the baby?" Hermione inquired cautiously.

"It really is a blur to me," said Merope. "I was told afterwards that the staff of the children's home called an ambulance. Apparently there were complications with the birth and I lost a lot of blood."

Hermione paled as she heard it. "Then you were lucky that you were in a hospital."

Merope nodded. "The doctors told me it was a close call. But they saved Tommy and me." A serene smile appeared on Merope's face as she added, "He was really the cutest baby you have ever seen. And already had an adorable fluff of his father's black hair."

Hermione giggled softly as she imagined Riddle as a baby. She peered at Merope's happy face and asked, "Where did you go after that? Back to Little Hangleton?"

"Oh no, no," said Merope. "I didn't want to go back to my family. And Tom never tried to find me either. So I stayed. Emily took me in."

"Who's Emily?"

"Emily Cole is her name," Merope explained. "She is the head of the children's home I told you about. I was still in the hospital as people from social services came to talk to me. I was so afraid they would take Tommy from me. But Emily resolved everything. As I was released from the hospital, she offered to let me stay with her." Merope beamed at Hermione and said, "She was… well, still is like a mother to me."

"I'm so glad nothing happened to you," Hermione replied. "It could have gone a lot worse."

"Yes," Merope agreed. "It could have."

After this Merope steered the topic of conversation to something lighter and they talked for a while. Then the door was opened and Riddle stepped into the room. His frosty eyes immediately wandered to Hermione and Merope. He coldly ignored the smile on his mother's face and said in his deep voice,

"There's something I need to talk about, mother."

Merope smiled. "Sure. What is it, honey?"

Hermione saw Riddle's jaw tensing as he heard the nickname. He didn't comment and instead said tightly,

"I want to talk in private."

"Okay, okay," Merope giggled and winked at Hermione.

She got up from the couch. Then she and Riddle left the room. Before the door closed behind them, Hermione could hear his silky voice,

"Do you remember that golden locket you always told me about? The one your mother gav-"

†

It was some time later that Hermione heard the soft clicking of her door again. She raised her eyes from her book. Riddle stood in the doorway, an odd glint in his eyes. Strands of his black hair fell into his blue eyes and a demonic smirk curled the corners of his mouth. He took a step into the room and the door snapped shut behind him. A predatory air hung around his movements as he walked over to her.

"Master Riddle?"

The infamous smirk on his face only widened and he whispered, his voice dangerously compelling,

"I missed you calling me Master."

Riddle sat down on the couch and eyed her. To break the silence, Hermione stuttered,

"D- did you want something?"

Smirk still in place, Riddle drawled smugly, "Not really."

"You seem… happy," Hermione remarked cautiously.

Riddle chuckled darkly and scanned her through his thick eyelashes. "I wouldn't say happy… but yes, I'm quite content. I had a very informative conversation with my mother regarding one of our family heirlooms."

She looked up at him, raising her eyebrows in question. Although Riddle obviously saw her silent request, he chose not to answer. Instead he reached for the book in Hermione's lap.

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow?"

Hermione shifted nervously. "Er… I- I'm… I know I shouldn't read. It's just that…"

"A rather morbid choice." Riddle grinned amusedly down at the book. "Let me guess. My mother gave it to you, didn't she?"

Hermione nodded tentatively, berating herself that she let Riddle see her with the book. The grin still lingered on his face as Riddle handed the book back to her.

"Penny, I really don't mind you reading books."

Hermione swallowed thickly. Her hands tightened around the book and she asked disbelievingly, "You don't… mind?"

"No," he drawled. "Not at all."

Hermione stared at him with huge eyes. Tentatively a smile formed on her face. Riddle was lounging on the sofa while he looked at her interestedly. Hermione skidded closer to him which made him arch an elegant eyebrow.

 _He allows me to read books…_  was the only thing that flew through her ecstatic mind. Before she could stop herself, Hermione stretched her neck and placed a fleeting kiss on Riddle's cheek. As she realized what she had done, her face flushed red like a tomato. Quickly Hermione shot up from the sofa, trying to run away. A hand on her wrist stopped her and she was pulled back down. Two deep blue orbs bored into her and Riddle said sternly,

"Wait. You're not getting away so easily."

Hermione quickly averted her eyes from him. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have," Riddle hissed dangerously, making her flinch.

He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her over to him. Hermione awkwardly leaned against his chest, not daring to move. Suddenly amusement tinted his voice as Riddle whispered,

"At least not without finishing what you started."

Two fingers under her chin tilted Hermione's face up. Riddle bent down to her and crashed his lips against her own. Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt the tip of his tongue brushing along the seam of her mouth. Pleasant tingles ran all over her body. Riddle nibbled demandingly at her lower lip, his teeth biting her. Hermione didn't dare respond to his kiss but she nestled closer to him. As Riddle finally released her, her head spun. He smirked at her and commented, unaffected,

"Maybe we should get you some books about magic, Penny."

She stared at him before she blurted out, "Hermione."

Riddle quirked an inquisitive eyebrow and Hermione's eyes widened in fear. Why had she said that? It had left her lips before she could have stopped herself.

"What?"

"Er…" Hermione mumbled, scared by his penetrating blue eyes. "That's… um…"

"Stop stammering," he reprimanded her sternly.

"I'm sorry."

"Who's Hermione then?" Riddle inquired.

She averted her eyes and had them downcast as she replied in a shaky voice, "That's me. My name."

"Your name is Hermione?" Riddle asked softly.

She nodded.

"What about Penny?"

"I got that name after I was bought by the Malfoy family," she whispered.

Surprisingly, Riddle snickered at that and a derisive smirk curled up his mouth.

"Let me guess," he said, dark amusement in his deep voice. "'Hermione' was too complicated for the lot of them?"

A soft giggle left her as she heard that but she quickly supressed it.

"Hermione, hm?" Riddle mused, scanning her. "Wife of Leontes, King of Sicily."

"You know Shakespeare?" Hermione asked, unable to stifle her surprise.

"Always the surprise," Riddle commented amusedly.

Hermione blushed. "I didn't mean…" Then she mumbled defensively, "Not many wizards know Shakespeare."

Glancing at him shyly, she told him, "My mother always said she named me after Harmonia. Harmonia is-"

"-the Goddess of harmony and concord," Riddle supplied.

Hermione nodded and explained, "In Greek mythology, Harmonia is the daughter of War and Love. Later she married a prince, Cadmus of Thebes."

A smirk was on Riddle's face as he commented quietly, "On their wedding day, Cadmus made Harmonia a present."

Hermione didn't understand the dark humour dancing in Riddle's eyes and he obviously didn't want to share. He merely continued his story,

"He presented her with a golden necklace."

Riddle snickered softly, obviously enjoying some kind of inside-joke. He leaned back on the sofa, his arms spread wide and lying on the backrest, and concluded,

"A magical necklace which granted the wearer eternal youth… eternal life."

Riddle's starkly blue eyes snapped back to Hermione. The dark smirk still curved his lips as he surveyed her.

"Cadmus and Harmonia," he sighed amusedly. "In the end, the Gods played foul with them. Cadmus was turned into a snake."

The smirk on his face widened and he asked, "Do you know the rest of the story?"

Hermione nodded, confused by the odd glint in his eyes. She tensed as Riddle suddenly slid closer to her on the sofa. He slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders, pulling her nearer. His other hand gently tucked her curly hair behind her ear.

"Grieved by her husband's transformation, Harmonia stripped naked and beckoned Cadmus to come over to her," Riddle whispered in Hermione's ear, his melodious voice sending shivers down her spine. "In his snake-form, Cadmus complied with her."

Hermione gasped as she then felt Riddle's hand running from her shoulder down her arm while he whispered, his breath hot against her skin,

"He slithered over her body, fondling her."

His hand left her arm and his fingers found the rim of her shirt. Hermione's head began to swirl as Riddle's hand slipped underneath her clothes and came to rest lying warmly on her stomach. Her breathing was shallow now, the feeling of his fingers against her bare skin throwing her into a whirlwind of emotions.

Riddle's hand still rested on her stomach while his other arm was wrapped around her shoulders. All rational thoughts left her mind as he leaned down to her and placed tender kisses over her neck. Hermione shuddered as she felt his soft lips against her. Each contact sent electrical shocks through her. Hermione gasped softly as the hand on her stomach moved. A tingling feeling followed Riddle's fingers as they danced upwards. They barely touched her skin, but that brief contact still evoked pleasant shivers on Hermione's body. His hand now dangerously close to her breast, Riddle buried his face in her curly hair. Hermione's whole body was on fire as his hot breath skimmed over the skin of her neck. She couldn't help it anymore. Yielding to that burning need in her, Hermione pressed herself desperately against him.

Riddle's melodious laughter washed over her. Abruptly he pulled his hands from her and leaned away. Hermione shuddered from the cold his absence inflicted. Riddle eyed her, dark smirk curving his lips, before he purred,

"Seeing her dazed state, the Gods took pity on Harmonia and turned her into a snake as well."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **And there, they say, two bright and aged snakes,**

**Who once were Cadmus and Harmonia,**

**Bask in the glens or on the warm sea-shore,**

**In breathless quiet, after all their ills;**

–  **Matthew Arnold**

**(*1822 †1888)**


	9. But a Fool

Riddle's blue eyes wandered over the scene in front of him. The buildings stood so narrow, nearly no light reached the alley. A few steps away an old witch with an eye patch stood on the dirty cobblestones of the alley, selling human bones. An unconscious man lay in front of a shop, looking quite dead, while a ragged goblin went through the man's pockets. Riddle averted his gaze from Knockturn Alley and looked at Hermione. The little Mudblood blinked innocently up at him. He narrowed his eyes at her and ordered sharply,

"Stay close."

"Yes, Master Riddle," the girl quickly assured, bowing her head.

Not replying, Riddle grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the alley. He couldn't wait to pay Borgin and Burkes a visit. As soon as his mother had told him about the whereabouts of the locket, Riddle had been more than glad to leave Little Hangleton behind. He still couldn't believe Merope had gone and sold Slytherin's locket.

_And ridiculously cheap, too._

How could she  _sell_  one of Slytherin's heirlooms? Riddle had to grit his teeth as fury built up. And how dare Borgin cash in on Slytherin's property? It was a scandal. Riddle wished he could crucio the whole lot of them.

He was pulled from his bloodthirsty thoughts by a tug. Startled, Riddle looked down. His hand was still clenched around the Mudblood's arm. As his thoughts had drifted to his lost heirloom, his grip had grown vicelike and he had ruthlessly wrenched the girl after him. Now she had tripped and looked at him apologetically. Riddle didn't say anything, but loosened his grip and slowed his pace.

_Hermione._

Riddle snickered inwardly. A rather melodious name for such a dirty little creature. His gaze again strayed down to her. The Mudblood was scanning the potions store they just passed. Curiosity glinted merrily in her brown eyes as she marvelled at the potion ingredients in the shop window. She didn't even notice the owner, standing in his shop's door, sleazy grin on his face, as he leered at her. Riddle glared at the balding man and pulled the Mudblood quickly away.

Why couldn't his idiot of a mother keep the locket? Riddle wondered angrily. Burke had surely sold it a long time ago. Now it was probably stacked away in some rich Pureblood's house, gathering dust, and Riddle would have to somehow 'procure' it.

 _What a hassle,_  he sighed inwardly.

Again Riddle contemplated Hermione. Maybe he could use her to solve his problem. She  _was_  rather talented with a wand, wasn't she? The Mudblood looked up at him, obviously having sensed his gaze on her. Timidly she chewed on her lower lip. Riddle smirked, pulled her closer to him and possessively ran his fingers through her soft curly hair. During their training sessions, he had realized that she indeed was a powerful creature. The only thing she truly lacked was a wand and… well, a Master able to put her powers to use.

Riddle snickered darkly.

No, Hermione wasn't so bad a name after all.

†

Riddle pulled Hermione through Knockturn Alley, his grip tight on her arm. She was disappointed they hadn't spent more time at Riddle manor. Hermione liked Merope a lot. Unfortunately, Riddle had been adamant to leave his parents' house as soon as possible. So now, instead of sitting in that cosy guest room, Hermione was dragged through a grubby side street of Knockturn Alley. She sighed softly and tried to keep up with Riddle's pace. They passed a woman wearing high heels and an incredibly short dress. As she saw Riddle the bored look dropped from her face and she sent him flirtatious looks and waved at him seductively. Hermione was secretly glad that Riddle completely ignored her.

A few steps further into the narrow alley stood a group of three men. They looked around suspiciously as a substantial amount of money changed hands. One of the men called out to Riddle,

"Hey, buddy."

As Riddle ignored him the guy asked, "You sellin'?"

To Hermione's horror, Riddle stopped and turned to the man. He now stood alone, the other two having drifted off into the twilight of Knockturn Alley. The man's greasy long hair was pulled back in a ponytail so it didn't fall into his tanned face. He flipped the butt of a cigarette carelessly on the floor as his eyes wandered interestedly from Riddle to Hermione. She stiffened as the man gave her a once-over before his eyes snapped back to Riddle.

"Fine piece o'ass." The man grinned dirtily. "I'd buy 'er."

A dark smirk playing around his lips, Riddle asked, "Well, how much are you offering?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard that. Then her whole body started to tremble. A greedy glint in his eyes, the disgusting man stepped closer to her. His eyes slowly raked over her body, lingering longer on her chest area. Hermione wanted to shy away, but she was too scared to do anything. Riddle wasn't selling her, was he? The man took another step towards her and Hermione caught a whiff of alcohol, cigarettes and bad breath. He reached out for her and grabbed her arm. Hermione was quaking in fear.

"Skinny bitch, eh?" the man grunted. His eyes wandered back to Riddle. "Shoulda fed 'er better."

Hermione heard Riddle chuckle softly, "I'm working on that." Then he said louder, "So, what's your offer?"

"Depends, buddy." The man winked in a disgusting way. "On whether tha's damaged goods or not. If ye get my drift. She still intact, I'll give ye a grand. How's that sound?"

Hermione's gaze shot to the scantily glad woman they had passed earlier. She didn't want to end up like that, walking the streets. Tears tingled in her eyes and her breath came quickened. After an agonizingly long moment, Riddle said airily,

"I think I'll keep her."

The man just shrugged. "Your loss. Should ye change ye mind, I'm 'ere."

Riddle continued his way down the street and Hermione hurried after him. She was still trembling all over. Did he plan to sell her? Was that maybe the whole reason they had come here? Tears almost rolled from Hermione's eyes. Riddle headed for one of the shops. 'Borgin and Burkes' said the sign. As he opened the door, Hermione didn't follow him. Hovering on the threshold, he turned around and looked at her expectantly.

"What are you waiting for? Come inside."

Hermione stared at him in confusion. She couldn't get into the shop. She wasn't allowed to. Riddle frowned at her in irritation then he ordered sharply,

"Get in!"

His blue eyes shortly wandered down the street from where they had come from.

"You are not going to stand around here alone."

No other option left, Hermione obeyed. The shop was dark and stuffy. Strange objects lay in various display cases. Riddle stepped over to the white-haired man standing behind the counter and asked him something. Hermione was so shaken, she didn't understand a word. She was only snapped out of her misery as Riddle bid good-bye to the old man.

"I thank you, Mr Burke," Riddle said blandly. "I'll present your compliments to Mrs Smith as soon as I visit her."

The white-haired man slightly inclined his head, his small sharp eyes never leaving Riddle. Riddle turned, grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her out of the shop. She followed him, feeling like a lamb led to the slaughter. As Riddle dragged her along the alley, Hermione breathed in deeply, gathering courage.

"You can't sell me. I don't even belong to you."

Riddle stopped abruptly. Slowly he turned around to her. A grin adorned his features as he scanned Hermione. Strangely enough it wasn't one of his scary dark grins. He seemed to be genuinely amused.

"You have quite the attitude today."

Hermione stubbornly gritted her teeth and informed decisively, "You will not sell me. As soon as you try that, I'm going to run away."

Hermione expected anger or maybe even a curse after that daring statement, but Riddle just snickered. He mockingly raised his eyebrows at her and asked,

"Could you wait with the running away until after I get the money from selling you?"

Hermione just stared at him, flabbergasted. Riddle grinned as he mused, "Actually, if we arrange a meeting point, we could meet up after I get the money. Then we can go and sell you again, pulling the same stunt. I bet there's a lot of money in it."

Hermione stared at Riddle. Strangely her fear was driven away by that mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What kind of crazy plan is that?" she asked waspishly.

Riddle pursed his lips and baited, "We could split the money. How about 70:30?"

Hermione now openly scowled at him. "Why do you get more?"

He grinned at her playfully. "Well, it  _was_  my idea, wasn't it?"

After a moment of considering him, she admonished him sternly, "We are certainly  _not_  going to do that. It's fraud. "

"Okay okay," Riddle said, peering at her in amusement. "Just a thought."

Hermione threw him another suspicious glare, didn't deign him with an answer and continued her way down the alley. Riddle sauntered after her, smirk in place. Then he remarked placably,

"If it reassures you, I was just curious about your  _market value_."

Hermione stopped and turned around to him, unsure. A wide smirk adorned his features as he purred,

"You are quite valuable, it seems."

Hermione just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Still grinning smugly, Riddle stepped closer to her.

"I bet you're worth more than a thousand," he continued. "That guy wanted to rip me off."

Content look on his face, Riddle reached into his cloak pocket and produced the familiar chestnut wand. He offered it to Hermione and said silkily,

"Here, take that as my amends."

Hermione blinked down at the wand as if she had never seen it before. He wanted her to keep it? Every rest of fear fell from her, replaced by tentative elation. Her gaze shot up to Riddle.

"C- can I really?"

Riddle rolled his eyes. "Don't make such a big deal out of it. You've used it daily anyway."

Hermione swallowed thickly. Then she ever so hesitantly reached out for the offered wand. Her magic leapt joyfully as her fingers curled around the smooth wood.

"Don't do anything stupid with it," warned Riddle.

Hermione looked up at him. He scanned her, one eyebrow arched elegantly. A big smile appeared on her face.

"Thank you."

†

Hermione felt almost faint from all her happiness. A constant smile danced around her lips as she felt the weight of the wand in her cloak pocket. Now she felt stupid for having thought Riddle would sell her away. Why would he give her a wand if he planned to do that?

Riddle maneuvered the happy Hermione through Knockturn Alley until he stopped, standing in front of a sleazy inn. Hermione gazed up at the sign. 'Broken Rabbit', it said. Underneath was an image of a white rabbit with one of his hind legs cut off, blood flowing freely. Hermione wrinkled her nose but followed Riddle inside. It was stuffy. Shady people sat at tables, hanging over glasses of Firewhiskey. They threw Riddle suspicious glances as he stalked over to the bar. The barman looked at Riddle through bloodshot eyes while he tried to rub a beer glass clean on the greasy apron hanging from his fat belly.

"I need a room," Riddle said in his silky voice.

The barman sniffed back snot before he informed gruffly, "The night's a Galleon and 7 Sickles."

Hermione barely stopped herself from lifting a surprised eyebrow. Well, that was rather cheap, wasn't it? Then again this pub didn't look half as good as the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione tensed as she noticed the barman scanning her indifferently.

"If ya servant stays, too, it's one Galleon and fifteen Sickles."

Instantly Riddle threw Hermione a glare as if it was her fault. She blinked at him innocently.

"Fine," he hissed at the barman.

Riddle turned and climbed the stairs to the guest rooms.

"Oi, where's me money?" the barman cried.

The other didn't even turn around but said languidly, "You'll get it when I leave."

The barman cursed under his breath but didn't try to stop Riddle. Hermione wanted to follow Riddle up the stairs but the barman's huge hand on her shoulder stopped her brusquely.

"You," he growled at her. "Dirty-bloods sleep down there."

With that he unceremoniously shoved Hermione towards a small door behind the bar's counter. She eyed the creaky door, covered in ominous dirt. Sighing inwardly, Hermione opened the door. A creaky worn out stair led down.

 _Perfect. Just perfect_ , she thought glumly as she descended the stairs and unenthusiastically stepped in a cellar room. Hermione spied bare concrete walls and a grime covered floor. She suppressed the need to gag as she took a tentative step in. The air hung rancidly in the room. A man stood in the corner right beside the door, swaying drunkenly, as he took a leak.

Hermione quickly walked away from him. The room was narrow but rather long. Many rusty old bed frames stood in rows along the walls. Thin, probably flea covered, mattresses lay on them. Most of the beds were occupied with people sleeping or just sitting around. A group of men sat in the aisle between the bed rows, immersed in a game of cards. They laughed drunkenly while sharing a bottle. Hermione cautiously stepped around them and towards an unoccupied bed. A harsh hand on her shoulder stopped her from sitting down.

"Hey, sister. 's mine. Keep the fuck away."

Hermione turned around to the speaker. It was a woman. A self-rolled cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth as she eyed Hermione disdainfully. Her hair was platinum blonde. Clearly it had been dyed, as the almost white colour clashed horribly with the woman's dark eyebrows. Her short, skin-tight dress was an alarming shade of pink and left little to the imagination.

"Bugger off!" the woman snapped hoarsely.

Another woman, sitting on a bed near-by and wearing an equally short dress, scorned, "What's up, Marth? Afraid of competition?"

"Shut up, you cunt," the first woman snapped.

With that the two women started a loud argument. In a safe distance to the angry women, Hermione spotted another free bed. She wanted to walk over there as her eyes drifted to the neighbouring bed. A man and a woman lay there, both naked, the dirty blanket having slipped off their heated bodies.

Not wanting to stand out any longer, Hermione uncomfortably sat down on the free bed. She tried to blend out the noises coming from the other bed, but was failing. The woman's high pitched squeals, were now and then accompanied by deep grunts coming from the man, the sound of skin slapping against skin and a thumbing as the bed was pounded into the wall.

Desperately trying to look somewhere else, Hermione gaze fell on a man lying on the bed opposite hers. Obviously excited with the interactions of the couple, the man's hand had disappeared in his pants and was engaged with a rubbing motion. Hermione jumped as his eyes flickered to her and raked over her appraisingly. He stretched his lips into a grin, showing his brown decaying teeth and threw Hermione a kiss, leering repulsively.

 _That's it_ , Hermione thought, shuddering. She grabbed the chestnut wand and plunged into apparition. Seconds later she reappeared in another room. It was rather small and the furniture was quite battered and worn. To Hermione it still looked like paradise. She exhaled slowly, glad to be away from that disgusting cellar room. She stiffened as the door to her right was opened and Riddle stepped out. His black hair was damp and he was wearing nothing but his boxers. Hermione stared at him with huge eyes. Although Riddle had a lithe form, he was in a sinewy way muscular. Hermione's gaze involuntarily wandered over his broad chest.

"Hermione?" Riddle furrowed his brow. "Where have you been?"

"Er…" she mumbled, hating how her face glowed with heat. "In the servants' quarters."

Before Riddle could say anything, she pleaded, "Can I stay here, Master Riddle? Please?"

He shrugged, ruffling his hair with a towel, and sat on the bed. Then he gestured at the bathroom door and said,

"I'm finished. You can use it now if you want."

†

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, feeling loads better after her shower. She grinned contently because she had dared to use her new wand and had cast a drying spell on her hair.

The room she stepped in was dark; Riddle had gone to bed. Hermione tiptoed over the cold floor and sighed softly as she sank down by the foot of the bed. Her back rested against the bed frame and she tiredly closed her eyes. This was way better than being down there in that cellar room. At least here no-one leered at her while masturbating.

_After all, Riddle is asleep…_

Hermione almost laughed out loud at that thought. She tried to not choke on her laughter as suddenly Riddle's voice said tiredly,

"Are you again trying to sleep on the floor, Hermione?"

Hermione coughed, regaining her breath. Then she whispered in a strangled voice, "Erm… it's fine. Really."

There was silence, then a long suffering sigh. Sheets rustled before there was the padding of bare feet on the floor. Hermione jumped as she felt a hand closing around her arm. Gently Riddle pulled her from the floor. She didn't know what to do as he pushed her down on the bed, lay down next to her and pulled the blanket over both of them. Hermione tensed as she felt Riddle's warm body so close. Her breathing was fast and shallow.

After some time, during which Hermione hadn't dared to move a muscle, Riddle rolled onto his side, wrapped a sneaky arm around her waist and pulled her against him. As her back rested against his chest she noticed that he was still only wearing his boxers. Hermione was stiff as a board as she lay in Riddle's arms. He nestled his face into her curly hair and tightened his hold on her. She was now wide awake, her heart hammering away in her chest.

 _What's he trying to do?_  she wondered frantically.

It was then that she heard how soft and steady Riddle's breathing was. He had already fallen asleep. A small smile tucked at her lips and Hermione allowed herself to relax into his embrace.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The next day, Hermione sat cross-legged on the bed in the inn's small room. Her eyes were trained on a book about dark curses Riddle had lent her. She flipped to the next page and shuddered slightly.

_Turns out that the skin-melting curse Riddle threatened Draco with really exists…_

It was then that the door was opened and Riddle entered. Instantly Hermione shot up from the bed. She couldn't laze around with a wizard in the same room.

"Are you still reading?" Riddle grinned at her. "You are worse than me."

Hermione shyly peered at him. Still smirking, he walked over to her and took the book from her before he threw himself down on the bed. As Riddle's blue eyes flicked over the page Hermione had been reading he snickered maliciously,

"Oh,  _that_  curse."

Hermione looked down at him as he lounged on the bed. Since she had met Merope Riddle that damn curiosity had eaten away from her. Hermione couldn't hold back anymore and, into the silence, asked,

"Master Riddle?"

"Hm?"

"How come your mother was allowed to marry a Muggle?"

Abruptly Riddle sat up on the bed. His calm expression turned into anger and he hissed menacingly,

"Didn't I tell you never to speak of that?"

Hermione fearfully shied away from him but still mustered the courage to reply, "No. You said I should never tell anyone about it." She gestured at the empty room. "No-one here."

Riddle threw her a death glare. As Hermione didn't react to it at all, he sighed, "All these books make you too smart."

She grinned at him toothily.

"Why do you even want to know about my mother?" he grumbled, displeased.

Hermione shrugged and said frankly, "She just is an interesting woman."

Riddle narrowed his eyes at her in anger. "My  _mother_ -" He spat the word. "-is weak."

Hermione stared at him, brow furrowed. "I don't think so. She told me all about her time in London when she was pregnant with you. It wasn't easy for her but she never gave up."

Riddle shook his head, anger glinting in his blue eyes. Then he asked, asperity leaking from his tone,

"Did she also tell you how she almost is a Squib and how she lost even that pitiable amount of magic?"

Hermione tilted her head to the side and whispered, "No."

"As she fled to London," Riddle hissed. "She wasn't  _brave_. She was stupid. Merope ran away from an uncomfortable situation without any plan in her mind. Just to end up in an even worse situation. My mother wouldn't have been able to protect anything, least of all me. That I survived was just coincidence. If anything, Merope nearly killed me with her stupidity."

"But, Master Riddle," said Hermione gently. "Everybody makes mistakes. I believe your mother tried her best. She really loves you."

"No, she doesn't," he sneered in disgust, then gestured at his face. "That's all she loves about me."

Before Hermione could reply anything Riddle continued, "Merope was and still is obsessed with my father. It's pathetic. He's a  _Muggle_  for God's sake and she's running after him."

At the mention of his father Hermione said cautiously, "It's probably not easy being a Halfblood. What with all the hiding."

Riddle glared daggers at her. She tried to not be affected and continued shakily, "I know the wizarding world doesn't really accept Halfbloods but no-one knows about you. So you are safe. And you still have both your parents."

"Joy," said Riddle dryly.

Hermione tilted her head and asked, "After your mother went to London how did she and your father end up together again?"

He looked at her for a moment, probably deciding whether to slap her for her insolence. In the end, Riddle replied curtly,

"My father went to London and took her back to Little Hangleton."

A smile appeared on Hermione's face. "See? He did want her back."

No," Riddle replied bitingly. "He did not. His parents forced him to do it. They probably thought that a child from a tramp is better than no heir at all. Or maybe they were afraid that Merope would sue for alimony. The  _scandal_."

He sent her a brittle smile and added colourlessly, "Of course that was before anyone knew that I'm a wizard. I think she now regrets that she didn't immediately drown me."

Hermione vigorously she shook her head. "Your mother is very proud of you. The only thing she kept telling me about was you. You mean a lot to her."

Riddle looked at her. There was not even a hint of emotion on his face. Even his beautiful blue eyes were frozen over with a layer of ice.

"If Merope  _loves_  me so much-" Riddle said, hints of anger tinting his controlled voice. "-then why did she allow my father to put me…"

His voice fizzled out. Riddle's frosty eyes were still fixed on Hermione. His gaze weighted heavily on her but she didn't avoid it. Dark, malicious magic saturated the air around the wizard.

"Put you where?" Hermione prodded gingerly.

Abruptly Riddle stood up from the bed and towered over her menacingly. Hermione flinched away from him, convinced that she had now overstepped the line. He bared his teeth at her and snapped aggressively,

"None of your business."

A strand of Riddle's dark magic hit Hermione violently and hurled her down on the bed. Her head swirled. By the time she was able to sit up, Riddle had already left the room, ghosts of his furious magic still crackling in the air. Hermione quickly got up from the bed and hurried after him. She had to descent the stairs and leave the inn until she spotted Riddle stomping down Knockturn Alley. Hastily Hermione rushed after him. Without thinking, she reached out for him and grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry."

Riddle's face was free of emotion as he gazed down at her. Traces of his angry magic still tickled all over Hermione's body. She looked up at him and said sincerely,

"I didn't mean to bring back bad memories."

Riddle's cold gaze was still directed at her. As he didn't react at all Hermione wondered if he wanted to be left alone. Just as she made to turn around, Riddle snickered.

"Bad memories?" Dark amusemend dripped from his tone. "You're really one of a kind, Hermione."

With that Riddle petted her head as if she were a cat. "Bless your simple mind."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she spotted the teasing grin on his face. Just as she wanted to snap something in return a voice interrupted them.

"Tom?"

They both turned. Hermione drew in a sharp breath of air as she saw Bellatrix Black and Draco Malfoy walking towards them.

†

Riddle had to suppress a groan as he watched the two Slytherins walking towards him. A crazy glint was in Bellatrix' eyes as they raked over him.

_Great. Just what I need._

Sure enough, Bellatrix snaked an arm around his waist and leaned into his side. She fluttered her eyelashes at him, a seductive smirk on her face. Riddle deftly stepped out of her grasp.

"How was Albania?" she asked sulkily.

Riddle shrugged. "Fine."

"Did you find what you were searching for," a composed voice prodded.

Riddle turned his eyes on the Malfoy heir. The blond looked back at him, nothing but polite interest on his face. Riddle smirked. As if Malfoy could fool  _him_.

"Why, yes," he replied, his tone saccharine. "I did. Thanks for asking."

Riddle continued to fix Malfoy with an expectant look, daring him to probe further. He had to suppress the urge to snicker maliciously as Draco shied away from him.

_Coward._

"Tooom," Bellatrix whined.

Still amused by Draco's failure, Riddle raised an eyebrow at Bellatrix. The witch flashed her white teeth at him.

"I was so booored," she sang.

She traced a long-nailed finger over his arm and looked up at him pleadingly.

"Promise that next semester we are going to  _do_  something."

Bellatrix stepped away from Riddle and twirled on the spot, her dark hair flying around her as she giggled wildly. Abruptly she stopped and stared at Riddle, her face an unreadable blank. Slowly, very slowly, her full lips curled up into a dangerous smirk. Then she informed him,

"Because you have always the  _best_  ideas, Riddle."

A solemn expression washed away her smirk. Stepping closer to him, the air of a mourning woman hovered around Bellatrix. Then she informed him gravely,

"My wand's all itchy."

Riddle snickered at her antics. He just wanted to reply something as Draco's sharp voice hissed,

"Penny?"

For a second Riddle was confused but then remembered Hermione's fake name. He turned his head and found the Mudblood bowing deeply while the Malfoy heir glowered at her darkly.

"Yes, Master?" she whispered, her voice suspiciously shaky.

Riddle furrowed his brow. Oddly enough, annoyance bubbled up in him as he watched her. The girl stood there, head bent, eyes downcast, and trembled slightly. Was she truly scared of Malfoy? If she pulled her wand, he would stand no chance.

"What are you doing here?" Draco snarled. "You should be back at the manor."

Riddle saw the Mudblood nodding quickly and she mumbled, "Yes, Master. I'm sorry."

Again that  _word_. Riddle's annoyance turned into anger. He had to admit, it did sound quite delicious from her lips. But the fact it was directed at Draco Malfoy twisted the whole thing into something obscene.

Before Riddle could ponder that sentiment longer, Draco raised a hand and slapped Hermione around the face. Her head was thrown to the side, but she made no sound. Riddle had to close his eyes as his magic unexplicably decided to go berserk. It raged through him, seeking to find a way out. He almost lost control over it.

_Strange._

†

There was a stinging pain in Hermione's cheek where Draco had slapped her. A harsh hand around her upper arm told her he wasn't yet finished with her. Brutally Draco pulled her closer, his fingers painfully biting in her arm.

"Did you think you could get away with shirking your duties and straying around like a street rat?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, Master."

"Damn right, you won't," Draco snapped furiously. "Just wait 'till we get back to the manor."

Hermione bit her lower lip hard to stop it from trembling. She had known she would get punished for staying away from Malfoy manor. Her stomach twisted into a painful knot. Through the corner of her eyes Hermione saw Draco again raising his hand, probably to emphasize his threat with another blow.

It hit her on the exact same spot and this time a soft whimper escaped her. Draco sent her an angry glare before he shooed her away with a wave of his hand. She stepped back as the blond returned to his conversation with Bellatrix and Riddle. Hermione put a hand over her stinging cheek, her cold fingers soothing on the burning skin. As she raised her head, her gaze immediately clashed with indifferent blue eyes. Riddle was staring at her, his frosty gaze steady and piercing. Embarrassed, Hermione's hand fell from her painful cheek. Riddle's dark gaze dropped to her left cheek, his face completely free of any emotion. Hermione averted her eyes and looked down at the floor.

"Where are you staying, Tom?" Hermione heard Bellatrix' sultry voice.

"At an inn," was Riddle's distanced reply.

Hermione could still feel his even stare on her.

"Oh, but why would you do that?" replied Bellatrix. "Really, you should stay with the Malfoys." She nudged Draco in his side. "Didn't you invite him? Where are your manners?"

An ingratiating smile twisted Draco's lips. "Of course, Tom. Stay with us until the start of term."

"You really should." Bellatrix grinned up at him. "I'm staying there myself."

"Yeah," scoffed Draco. "Because you are trying to escape your mother."

Wrath raged in Bellatrix' pretty eyes as she glowered at Draco threateningly. Unexpectedly she kicked him in the shin.

"Damn!" he yelped. "What's  _wrong_  with you?"

The witch did not reply but turned to Riddle. All fury was gone from her face and she simpered happily,

"You  _are_  coming with us, though, aren't you?"

Riddle looked down at her sceptically. "I suppose…"

A satisfied smirk stretched Bellatrix' lips. Hermione was surprised as she felt the urge to smile herself.

"Apparate us back," Draco's sharp order made her flinch.

Hermione's hand was halfway to her pocket as she remembered her lost red wand. Timidly she glanced at Draco and confessed,

"I lost my wand, Master."

Draco's eyes turned into dangerous slits. He opened his mouth to, no doubt, yell at Hermione as Bellatrix stepped in. Boredom dulled her eyes and she grabbed Draco's arm.

"Seriously, Draco," the witch mocked him mercilessly. "You need to learn how to apparate."

With a look of disgust on her face, Bellatrix grabbed Hermione by her shoulder. She threw Riddle a last seductive look and said,

"See you at the manor."

Then she pulled Draco and Hermione with her into Apparition.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

An unpleasant amount of time later, Hermione slipped out of the parlour of Malfoy manor. She nursed a bleeding lip and quite a few bruises on her skin. The moment she had set foot in the manor, Draco had started to slap her around and aim a few curses at her. Still, all considered – Hermione reasoned as she wiped the blood from her chin – it could have been worse. Nothing was broken and she could still walk. Sure that stinging hex had hit her knee and she had to limp down the hallway but Draco had been quite lenient. He'd probably been distracted by the headache he got from Bellatrix' endless blether about Riddle. Hermione chuckled softly. On this one point, she had to concur with Bellatrix. Hermione, too, was glad that Riddle stayed at Malfoy manor.

Her knee throbbed painfully as she finally reached the kitchen. She opened the door and was greeted by the familiar smells and the pleasant warmth of the kitchen.

"Penny," a voice called out.

Hermione turned and smiled as she saw Maggie walking towards her. A motherly smile was on the plump woman's face as she wiped her hands on her apron before she hugged Hermione tightly.

"Oh, dear. I've been worried about you," Maggie said, kissing Hermione's forehead. "When Draco returned without you…"

She held Hermione at arm's length and eyed her in worry. "You seem alright."

Hermione smiled and reassured, "I'm fine. Really. Nothing broken. Everything's fine."

A relieved smile widened Maggie's lips. She ushered Hermione over to a bench and sat her down.

"I'll get you something for that lip," she promised before she scurried away.

While Hermione waited, Sam hurried past her, carrying a spade over his shoulder. As he spotted Hermione he beamed at her and ruffled her hear affectionately.

"Glad to have you back," he said breathlessly.

Then he left in a hurry. Maggie returned with a dish towel filled with ice in her hand. She handed it to Hermione who instantly pressed it against her aching lip.

"Thank you," sighed Hermione gratefully.

"Not a problem, sweetie," said Maggie. "Now you stay here and rest. You can tell me all about your adventures later, when I'm finished with making dinner."

She winked at Hermione before she returned to her pots and pans. It wasn't long and someone plopped down on the bench beside Hermione. A radiating smile on her face, Minky scanned her long lost friend.

"So?" she finally said. "How was your little trip?"

"Fabulous," Hermione declared, fake-pompousness in her voice. "Quite fabulous, my dear."

Both girls broke down in giggles. Minky gasped for air,

"Ah. It's so good to have you back, Penny." Then she said conspiratorially, "You know, after Draco returned alone, I really thought you took my advice."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What advice?"

Minky good-naturedly clapped her on the back. "To run away, Penny. Remember? I told you to run away from Draco and hide in Albania."

Hermione giggled and Minky added, "Didn't work out, did it? What happened? Did they catch you?"

Still smiling amused, Hermione shook her head. "I didn't run away. Draco and Riddle got into a fight. Draco left in a huff and forgot about me."

"Oh," made Minky. "That totally sounds like something he would do."

Hermione twisted her face and nodded. Minky shrugged and asked, "How was it with that other guy then? Did he treat you okay?"

Images of Riddle shot through Hermione's head. She saw him smiling at her, him snaking an arm around her waist… him kissing her. Suddenly Hermione had to fight against a blush on her face and a painfully hollow feeling in her chest. She hadn't seen Riddle since they had parted in Knockturn Alley.

"Yes," Hermione replied dully.

Minky's gaze wandered over her curly-haired friend then she whispered, her tone uncharacteristically serious, "I was really worried, you know. All of us. We thought Draco had- We thought you were…"

Minky didn't finish the sentence. She breathed in deeply, then the customary smile returned to her face and she said heartily,

"But now that you are back, I'm sure you won't mind helping me with cleaning all the windows in the first floor."

Hermione threw a mischievous smile at her friend and complained teasingly, "What? You want me to work already? I thought I could laze around a bit. You are a slave driver."

Minky blinked at Hermione for a second. Then a grin stretched her lips and she giggled.

"Ah, shut up, Penny."

She offered Hermione a hand and pulled her up from the bench. Minky didn't let go of Hermione's hand but held it tightly and whispered,

"It's good to have you back."

†

"So, they really went into a  _Muggle_  pub, did they?" Minky asked disbelievingly as she carefully folded one of Narcissa's silk blouses.

Hermione nodded amusedly. "Yeah. Though Draco didn't like that one bit."

Minky giggled cheerfully and remarked sardonically, "I can't imagine."

Hermione grabbed a jeans, folded it and put it away while she told Minky smilingly, "It was a nice pub, though."

The other girl grinned at Hermione and commented dryly, "So, you spent your time in Albania in pubs, did you?"

"No," Hermione laughed. "We actually had this tent and we wen-"

She was interrupted by Maggie's voice drifting into the laundry room, "It's right in here, Master Riddle."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and Minky beside her tensed. Not a second later, the door was opened and none other than Riddle himself stepped into the laundry room, trademark smirk hovering around his mouth. Hermione stared at him. Shiny dark hair, chiselled face and beautiful ice blue eyes, Riddle was handsome as ever. Her stomach tingled strangely and a wave of relief hit Hermione as her eyes wandered over Riddle.

Through the corner of her eyes, she saw Minky bowing, a surprised look on her face. Well, it wasn't often a wizard came down here.  _Actually never_. Hermione quickly bowed as well as Riddle strode over to her with an amused glint in his eyes.

"How can I help you, Master Riddle?" Hermione asked softly

The moment she raised her face at him, a sharp frown appeared on Riddle's forehead. Minky beside her was shuffling nervously, also having spotted the wizard's anger. Riddle took a step towards Hermione and inquired darkly,

"What happened to your face?"

She blinked at him in surprise. Hermione had somehow managed to completely forget about her burst lip and the bruises.

"Master saw fit to punish me," she mumbled.

"I see," Riddle said icily.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as he glared at her for a moment. Then his penetrating gaze left her and took in the room.

"What are you doing?" Riddle inquired, his voice no longer harsh.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "The laundry?"

Minky, who still bowed, cringed at the flippant tone her friend used with Riddle. The wizard, on the other hand, just chuckled.

"Hm, laundry day… Is that why you are running around in those rags?"

Hermione frowned and looked down at herself. Once again, she was wearing a shapeless white cotton dress. She already missed the clothes Riddle had given her. Sadly the Malfoys wouldn't allow her to wear them.

"I'm not quite sure what that  _is_ ," Riddle declared arrogantly as he tugged at Hermione's dress. "Bedsheet?"

A small smile timidly tugged at Hermione's lips as she spotted the playful glint in Riddle's eyes. She even dared to lightly tease him back,

"Well, if it's such an eyesore, maybe I could wear some of  _your_  clothes?"

Riddle smirked at her. Panic, though, appeared in Minky's eyes as she heard Hermione  _mocking_  a wizard. Frantically, she tugged at Hermione's sleeve to warn her. Riddle sauntered over to the second door in the laundry room and grabbed the handle.

"What's behind this?"

Before Hermione could even open her mouth, Minky piped in, fear wrapped around her words, "The servants' quarters, Master Riddle."

"Hm," made Riddle.

He opened the door and stepped into the room behind. Meanwhile Minky turned to Hermione and shook her by the shoulders.

"Are you crazy?" she mouthed frantically.

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Why?"

"Because you're diggin' your own-"

Riddle's voice cut over Minky's reply, "Hermione? Get over here. You can at least show me around."

Minky's grip on Hermione's shoulders tightened before she shoved her friend over to the door while whispering, panicky,

"Don't do anything stupid, Penny. Please!"

†

Riddle wrinkled his nose in distaste as he took in the room. Stuffy, dark, bare walls and no windows whatsoever. A couple of pathetic cots were the only furniture. This was a far cry from Riddle's lush guest room. He turned around and watched in amusement as the Mudblood scurried over to him, her brown eyes searchingly wandering over him.

"Well?" he prompted. "Which one is yours?"

The Mudblood spluttered, unable to form any reply. Riddle snickered. She was rather entertaining, wasn't she? he decided as she indicated towards one of the cots, face red with embarrassment. He stepped over to it and observed Hermione's…  _well, 'living space' doesn't quite put it_ , he thought in disgust. The bed was small, the mattress thin and the blanket full of holes. Still, the bed was made quite meticulously. Grinning slightly, Riddle sat down. It was then that he spotted a stack of clothes, hidden away under the pillow. His grin widened and he looked up at the girl.

"You've kept them after all," he commented, reaching for the green pullover.

The Mudblood stood a step away from him and looked at him with guarded eyes.

"Do you want them back?" she asked reluctantly.

"No." Riddle patted on the bed beside him and ordered, "Sit down."

He smirked as the little Mudblood instantly obeyed him. She twisted her hands in her lap and looked quite nervous.

"So, are you glad to be back at Malfoy manor?" Riddle asked nonchalantly.

"Er…" Hermione stuttered, obviously preparing to lie. "Y-yes. Of course."

 _Pathetic_. He really needed to teach her how to deceive properly. Anyway, her opinion hardly mattered. Riddle had already determined that leaving the Mudblood at Malfoy manor would be a waste. If used properly, Hermione would be very beneficial to his plans. Inwardly Riddle smirked. Outwardly, he presented the little Mudblood with a charming smile.

"You know," he told her innocently. "I'll be leaving in three days. School starts again."

†

Hermione ignored the sharp jap in her chest and replied, "I know. Master will leave as well."

Shortly she hesitated but then dared to ask, "How is Hogwarts?"

"It's quite nice," Riddle replied. Then he smirked and added slyly, "Of course only if you get sorted into Slytherin house."

"Is it the best house?" Hermione asked curiously.

"By far," Riddle nodded. "Ravenclaw is pretty decent, I guess. But Hufflepuff? Please." He rolled his eyes. "Even worse is Gryffindor, though. They are all dunderheads."

"And you get sorted in first year?"

"Yes," said Riddle idly. "Right after you arrive at Hogwarts. There's even a ceremony involved. Rather posh if you ask me. But the food is good."

"What do you-?"

Hermione didn't dare to finish her question. Riddle cocked a questioning eyebrow, prompting her to continue. She swallowed nervously and fiddled with a strand of her curly hair. Then she breathed in deeply and asked cautiously,

"If I'd have gone to Hogwarts, what do you think my house would have been?"

"Hmm…"

Hermione tensed as she saw a frown on Riddle's face but then he said, obviously not insulted by the notion of a Mudblood at Hogwarts,

"Definitely not Slytherin."

Hermione's face fell.

"You are too honest and innocent to survive there. Not Hufflepuff either. Too smart for them. I don't know. Maybe Ravenclaw? I mean they are all obnoxious know-it-alls…" Riddle smiled at her innocently before he added, "Then again so are you."

Hermione blushed fiercely at that. Riddle grinned smugly.

"Maybe even Gryffindor?" he suggested teasingly. "You have rather the hot temper, haven't you?"

She averted her eyes. After a while she peered up at him and whispered softly, "I wish I could see Hogwarts."

"Well, there are a lot of Mudbloods working in the castle," Riddle said contemplatively. "Maybe you get lucky and the Malfoys sell you to Hogwarts."

With that Hermione's bubble burst, stabbed by a needle of reality. Her heart clenched painfully but she didn't want to investigate that numb feeling closer.

"Yes, maybe," she said, her voice hollow.

A strangely calculating glint appeared in Riddle's eyes as he heard that defeated tinge in her voice. He slipped closer to her on the bed and suggested,

"Or I could take you with me to Hogwarts."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, confused by his suggestion. Riddle's blue eyes were still fixed on her. They were unreadable. A sharp contrast to that welcoming smile on his lips.

"Draco abandoned you back in Albania, didn't he? So, technically you are mine now," Riddle elaborated silkily and her eyes widened at this notion. "I'm sure they would let me keep you at Hogwarts. I'm Head Boy after all."

"I- I'm yours?" Hermione stuttered.

Riddle shrugged lightly. "I think so."

"But- but Master won't let me go… He'll demand me back," Hermione said, not able to wrap her head around the concept of being able to escape Draco.

"'Master'…" Riddle whispered softly.

He chuckled sinisterly, making chills running down Hermione's spine. His eyes snapped at her and he said, twisted mirth in his voice,

"I don't think Draco can demand anything of me."

Hope swelled up in Hermione and she asked incredulously, "And you would take me with you to Hogwarts?"

"Sure," Riddle replied casually, his cold eyes flashing at her. "If you want to."

Hermione never had anyone giving her a choice… asking for her  _opinion_. A smile grew on her face until she was positively beaming at Riddle.

"Yes, Master," she gushed enthusiastically.

Something burned up in Riddle's blue eyes as he heard her new title for him. He snickered while studying the elation on her face. Hermione knit her brow but was too happy at the prospect of going to Hogwarts to ponder the strange look on his face.

"Is it really okay for the Head Boy to have a personal Mudblood?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Riddle replied. "But don't worry I've Dippet wrapped around my finger so it shouldn't be a problem." As he saw her confused look he added, "Dippet's the Headmaster."

Before Hermione could say anything more, a nasty smirk grew on Riddle's face. His eyes greedily wandered over her as he pulled his wand.

"Now," he declared darkly. "Let's break your bond with the Malfoy family."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **If thou to be a slave shouldst will,**

**Thou'lt get no pity, but fare ill;**

**And if a master thou wouldst be,**

**The world will view it angrily;**

**And if in status quo thou stay,**

**That thou art but a fool, they'll say'**

–  **Johann Wolfgang von Goethe**

**(*1749 †1832)**


	10. Wretched State

Riddle grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her with him through apparition. Seconds later they reappeared in the guest room of Malfoy manor. Hermione's nervous gaze was trained on Riddle. He still firmly held her hand and steered her over to the couch.

"Show me your mark," Riddle ordered sharply.

A strange shudder ran over Hermione. It had all sounded so good but did she really want Riddle to be her master? She _did_  want to see Hogwarts, yes …and Riddle couldn't be worse than Draco?

_Surely not…_

Feeling horribly jittery, Hermione slowly rolled up her sleeve. The Dark Mark sinisterly collided with the pale colour of her skin. Hermione stared at the ugly mark, wondering what Riddle would do with it. After all, the mark bonded Hermione to the Malfoy family. Brutally it was woven into her magic and could not be dispelled.

"Y- you need a Malfoy present to break the bond," Hermione whispered timidly.

Riddle didn't reply but just snatched her wrist, his fingers clenching around her tightly. Swiftly he raised his wand and traced its tip over the black tattoo. Hermione instantly felt his magic flowing from the wand into her arm. She gritted her teeth as the sensation intensified and quickly turned into pain.

"Don't fight me," Riddle warned her.

Blood dripped from her skin where his wand touched her. A soft whimper left Hermione. It felt like a scalpel was pulled inch-deep through her flesh. Riddle's fingers tightened around her wrist and he continued to mercilessly move his wand over her arm. More blood flowed from invisible cuts and dripped from her arm down on the couch. Riddle's magic mercilessly invaded the mark and left Hermione's whole arm in pain. Seething hot like molten metal his magic flowed over her skin and through her veins. Hermione groaned in pain and instinctively tried to pull away. Riddle's grip, though, was unyielding.

As he was finished tracing the mark, a powerful burst of magic rushed into Hermione. Her whole body tensed as if she was electrocuted. Then Riddle's magic left her and she weakly fell forward. Only his tight grip on her arm prevented her from completely losing her balance. She felt incredibly weak and her left arm throbbed painfully. A dark smirk adorned his features as Riddle said contently,

"Now, you are mine."

Without another word, he got up from the sofa and left Hermione. She shakily sagged against the backrest of the couch and looked down at her arm lying in her lap. The Dark Mark looked raw, as if it had been freshly tattooed into her skin. Blood still flowed from it and stained the white fabric of her dress. Her whole arm burned and ached nastily. Riddle's magic hummed through her, making her nauseous.

Through the pain, Hermione noticed a weight sitting down beside her. She raised her swirling head. Emotionless blue eyes were gazing back at her. Confused, Hermione noted that Riddle offered her a chocolate bar. Seeing her puzzled look, he explained,

"Take it. It'll help the dizziness."

Slowly Hermione accepted the chocolate from him and began to eat. The sweet chocolate melted deliciously in her mouth. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had eaten sweets and she enjoyed the taste. Still she winced as Riddle gingerly pulled her arm over to him. Her eyes widened in surprise as he pressed a wet washrag on her forearm. His deep blue eyes were trained on her arm as he started to gently wipe the blood away. As Riddle spotted the incredulous look on her face he snickered softly and drawled,

"Well, you are the first Mudblood I ever had, so I have to take good care of you."

A small smile took form on Hermione's face. Then she nodded daringly and took another bite of her chocolate bar. Riddle just smirked and continued to look after her sore arm.

{{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione did not dream. Usually she fell into bed after a long day of hard work and sleep would instantly claim her. It would never bring her dreams, just deep black unconsciousness. The next day Hermione would get up and go about her chores just so that the dreamless sleep would again overcome her at night.

No dreams, no memories. Nothing.

So Hermione was quite bewildered as she woke from her slumber and felt remnants of a dream lingering at the edges of her mind. She tried to remember what it had been about but the more she concentrated on the dream, the quicker it slipped into oblivion. Hermione took in a deep breath of air. Her eyes were still closed, not quite ready to face the world again. That dream had left behind a blissful drowsiness that Hermione didn't yet want to abandon.

If only that dull throbbing in her left arm hadn't nagged her so, she could have fallen asleep again. Sadly, the dull pain persisted, drove away all remnants of sleep. Hermione finally remembered what had caused her this pain in the first place.

_Riddle!_

Hermione's eyes shot open. She swallowed nervously as Riddle's calm gaze met her. He lounged on the sofa, a book in his lap and one arm elegantly draped over the backrest. For some inexplicable reason Hermione was tugged into his side. To her horror and embarrassment she noticed that her left arm was slung across Riddle's stomach in a half-hug. She must have grabbed him in her sleep.

So fast as if she had been burned by Riddle, Hermione jumped up from the couch and took a hasty step back. Her eyes were downcast as she shakily apologized,

"I'm sorry I fell asleep like that." Cautiously she peered up at Riddle's expressionless face and added shyly, "…Master."

As he heard that, Riddle's lips curled into a smirk. For a moment he considered her and Hermione shuffled nervously.

"Hm, 'Master'…" said Riddle, his smooth voice wrapping around her like dark velvet. "I think I like the sound of that."

His gaze didn't want to release her and Hermione felt utterly trapped. She stared back into those blue mesmerizing eyes. They made her nervous, frightened even, yet it wasn't completely uncomfortable gazing back at them either. Riddle reached out for her and grabbed her left wrist. Turning her arm, he frowned down at the Dark Mark on her forearm. The tattoo was a deep black, while the surrounding skin was angrily red. Riddle's starkly blue eyes flicked up to her.

"Is it hurting?"

"No," replied Hermione instantly.

Riddle just raised his eyebrows in a decidedly doubtful gesture. She worried her lip and softly confessed,

"A little bit, Master."

He nodded and let go of her arm.

"It's going to be a little uncomfortable for a day or two," Riddle told her indifferently. "I had to be rather forceful to severe the bond. It will take some time for you to adjust to my magic and for the mark to settle down."

Hermione looked at the inflamed skin of her arm and cautiously ran a finger over it. Instantly a sharp pain shot through her whole arm and she winced.

"Yes, you shouldn't touch it," Riddle advised, grinning up at her evilly.

Hermione nodded, averting her eyes. Now, their relationship was sealed by the painful mark in her skin. A strange hollow feeling overwhelmed her. Riddle was her master and she his servant, nothing more. Never more.

 _Such silly thoughts_ , Hermione chastised herself. What else  _could_  he have been to her? Riddle was a wizard, after all. Relentlessly Hermione pushed that hollow ache from her mind and bowed deep to Riddle.

"What can I do for you, Master?"

As Riddle didn't immediately reply, Hermione chanced a peek at him. He scanned her, a slight frown marring his handsome face.

"Why are you suddenly so formal?" he inquired curiously.

His ice blue eyes wandered over her. Hermione was still bowing, her curly hair falling into her face. Riddle cocked an eyebrow.

"You are decidedly more sycophantic than usual."

"…er…" made Hermione unintelligently. "That's how I usually… hm… behave towards my Master…"

Riddle tilted his head to the side as he surveyed her interestedly.

"Is that so?" he inquired lightly. "Are all Mudbloods like that?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What do you mean, Master?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "As you may have guessed, my… family never had any Mudbloods and the ones in Hogwarts are more or less invisible. So, what exactly are you supposed to do for your Masters?"

"Erm… Whatever they want?"

That made Riddle snicker ominously. "Really?"

"Of course, Master," assured Hermione duteously.

"So, you would do  _anything_  I ask of you?"

His voice was a tad bit too innocent. Surely enough as Hermione nodded a nasty smirk took form on Riddle's face. Languidly, his eyes travelled over her and, with a straight face, he suggested,

"Okay. How about you give me a lap dance?"

Hermione stood in front of him and couldn't do more than blink at him stupidly. Riddle flashed his white teeth at her in a grin, patted his knee and prompted expectantly,

"Go on."

Hermione still didn't move, embarrassment and shock warring inside of her, while a deep blush took form on her face. Stock-still, as if he had petrified her, she stood before Riddle.

It was then that something flickered over Riddle's serious face. His lips quivered slightly, as if in an attempt to stifle a laugh. The moment Hermione spotted that crack in his mask, the upcoming fear left her and she breathed out in relief.

"I only answer to  _sensible_ orders," she informed dryly.

Riddle stared at her, his eyes wide with mock-outrage. "You dare disobey?"

"No," Hermione replied dramatically. "I would  _never_  disobey you, Master."

Obviously Riddle couldn't hold back anymore and he laughed. His penetrating eyes caught hers and he purred silkily,

"No dance, then? It's a shame."

Once again, Hermione fought against a blush. Quickly she averted her eyes. As they fell on the clock standing on the bedside table, she noticed how late it already was. Neatly, Riddle had missed dinner with the Malfoys.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione inquired tentatively. "I could bring you something to eat."

"Trying to be useful so I forget that lapse, are you?" Riddle asked amusedly. "I  _am_  a bit hungry though."

Hermione bowed to him and pulled her wand. Before the dark pressure of apparition took her, she heard Riddle's voice,

"Don't forget to bring something for yourself."

†

Immediately upon Hermione's arrival in the kitchens, something heavy collided with her. Startled, she looked down, just to find Minky grabbing her in a desperate hug. Awkwardly, Hermione patted the girl's head.

"There there. What's wrong?"

Minky let go of her. Relief quickly morphed into anger as she glared at Hermione.

"' _What is wrong'_?" Minky screeched shrilly. "Do you really have to ask, Penny? Really?"

Hermione stared at the other girl, completely befuddled. It only made Minky narrow her eyes dangerously and continue her rant,

"First you go and hurl a pile of  _sass_  at a wizard. Then said wizard drags you away to Merlin-knows-where and you keep missing for  _hours_. Why, I thought that Riddle guy had chopped you up into tiny little pieces. I already saw you lying in a bloody mess. And then you turn up and ask  _me_  what's wrong? I've never hea-  _What the hell is that?_   _Blood?_ "

The fury on Minky's face was displaced by worry as she stepped closer to Hermione and inspected her dress. Hermione looked down at herself and spotted dark blood staining her white dress where it had dripped from her arm.

"Merlin!" Minky exclaimed in horror. "He  _did_  hurt you. Is it bad?

Hermione gently pushed Minky's hands away from her and soothed, "No, Riddle didn't hurt me. Don't worry."

"Then where's the blood from?" Minky wasn't at all reassured.

Despite her friend's concern, Hermione beamed at her and even giggled softly.

"You won't believe what happened," she said excitedly as she showed Minky her left forearm.

With a creased brow, Minky took in Hermione's Dark Mark. It still looked raw and painful. Before her friend could voice her confusion, Hermione gushed on,

"Riddle used some really powerful magic on the mark. I don't know how, but he broke the bond.  _Easily_! I tell you! Without Draco even being in the same room. And now…" Hermione's gaze fell down to her mark. "Now, Riddle's my master."

Minky stared at Hermione for a good minute while various emotions flittered over her face. Surprise, confusion, amazement and then worry.

"He- he's really your master?"

"Uh-hu." Hermione threw Minky a grin. "Crazy, isn't it?"

Minky only nodded and silently watched Hermione who started to rummage through the kitchen. Quickly, Hermione placed some roast chicken, a bowl of rice and a jug of orange juice on a silver tray. Just as she reached for a dish with green peas, Minky remarked quietly,

"You seem rather happy…"

Hermione halted in her actions. She hadn't even noticed, but… Yes. In a way, she  _was_  happy. Happy to get away from Draco, to be allowed to keep her wand, to go to Hogwarts and to…  _stay with Riddle?_

"Riddle's alright, I guess," said Hermione, peering at Minky. "Loads better than Draco. In Albania, he's treated me well. Riddle, that is."

"I see," Minky commented tonelessly.

Hermione wrapped an arm around Minky's shoulders and soothed, "I'll miss you, too, you know."

Minky smiled at her and teased half-heartedly, "Of course you will. I'm awesome."

Her smile quickly died as she mustered Hermione. Instead deep concern blossomed on Minky's face. Noticing that something was bothering her, Hermione asked gingerly,

"What's wrong?"

Minky cleared her throat. Averting her eyes from Hermione, she mumbled, "I'm worried about you."

She peered at Hermione's surprised expression and continued in a sombre tone, "Riddle… he is kinda  _odd_ , isn't he? I mean, I'm really happy for you, Penny. But… I mean- I know Draco can be a cruel pig. And you are certainly better off without him but-"

Minky gnawed at her lip nervously. "It's just… Riddle, he's… he  _seems_  to be quite sinister. Dangerous even. Not in the petulant way that Draco sometimes loses temper. Riddle's more serious. I think if you get on his wrong side, it's not just a simple beating he'll give you. It's- The way you spoke with him; I was really scared, you know. I don't want you to find out what Riddle's like when  _he_  loses his temper…"

Hermione grabbed Minky's hands and pressed them soothingly.

"Don't worry about me," Hermione reassured gently. "I'll be fine. I know, Riddle's a bit spooky, but I don't think he'll be cruel to me."

Minky looked at her friend doubtfully, the worry not having settled down. Finally she implored shakily, "Just try and… and watch out, will you? See that you don't anger Riddle. Don't give him any backtalk, do what he says and be respectful."

Hermione nodded quickly and sent Minky a soft smile. Then she teased lightly, "And you watch out that Draco doesn't catch you stealing food. Will you?"

Minky giggled, if a little tearfully. Abruptly she embraced Hermione in a tight hug. As she released her friend again, Minky said, her voice strong again,

"He'll never be fast enough to catch  _me_." She shoved Hermione over to the tray with food. "And now, off you go. Don't keep your new master waiting."

†

Hermione spooned rice into her mouth as she watched Riddle nibbling at his food while his nose was buried in a book. She grinned and asked softly,

"What are you reading about?"

Riddle looked up from his book. He smirked at her and said, "Potus desperatio."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Isn't that a  _dark_  potion?"

His smirk grew. "Very."

Hermione frowned reproachfully, which only made Riddle snicker sinisterly. She ignored it and asked,

"What was the problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been scowling at the book for at least five minutes," she said dryly.

"I didn't  _scowl_ ," insisted Riddle.

"No," replied Hermione, sarcasm in her tone. " _Of course_  you didn't."

He glared at her but then admitted, irritated, "I don't understand why you should sacrifice the white pigeon under the new moon. Surely a full moon would be better. Here-" Riddle pointed out a paragraph in the book. "Protective wards have to be spanned over the area where you kill the animal. Those wards are stronger during the full moon. It doesn't make sense."

Hermione took the book from him and quickly read over the text. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. This really  _was_ dark magic. She handed the book back and said,

"I think it's because of the blood."

"What do you mean?" asked Riddle.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "You would need to kill the pigeon – which by the way is totally  _horrible_  – by crushing its head. Then you collect its blood for the potion."

She had expected that would resolve the whole problem but Riddle just blinked at her. Hermione sighed and lectured,

"If you do that on a full moon, your protective wards would be stronger, but the blood would be spoiled by the moonlight. Didn't you ever read Willcott's essay about the influence of the moon on rituals?"

Riddle glared at her and sneered, "Of course I did. But Willcott's an idiot. He doesn't know a thing about Dark Magic. This is clearly a  _dark_  ritual. The protective wards are strong enough to negate the influence of the moonlight."

Hermione grinned at him condescendingly and said, "Obviously you've only read Willcott's original essay and missed the  _revised_  edition that came out a year later. He added a section about combined rituals – like the one you are talking about. Willcott states that every component of a ritual can only serve one purpose. Your protective wards are cast to keep  _you_  safe from any intruding forces. Nothing else. Certainly not the pigeon and not its blood either." Hermione gestured at the book in Riddle's hand. "So, the only secure way to do this is during the new moon."

Riddle didn't say anything. He looked down at the book and then back at her.

"Revised edition, you say?"

Hermione nodded smilingly. Riddle didn't seem to be nearly as amused. Finally he grumbled,

"You are a know-it-all. Did anyone ever tell you?"

Hermione grinned at him, mock-bowed her head and said, "I'm here to help."

Riddle rolled his eyes and threw the book at her. Easily she caught it, still grinning. Annoyed, Riddle got up from the couch and declared,

"That's it. I'm going to bed."

Hermione got up as well and took a respectful step away from Riddle. This time there was no hint of playfulness in the gesture as she bowed to him. He didn't pay her any attention but stepped over to his trunk and rummaged through his clothes. Hermione wondered if that was her cue to leave. As she edged closer to the door, Riddle peered at her and said decisively,

"You are sleeping here, Hermione."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "Master?"

"I've seen the shoebox you've been crammed into," he informed curtly. "So, you'll sleep here."

Without waiting for her consent, Riddle finally pulled a t-shirt out of his trunk. He tossed it to her and commanded,

"Go, change in the bathroom."

"Yes, Master," was all Hermione could say.

†

Awkwardly Hermione lay on the king-sized bed, buried under a warm blanket. She had wanted to sleep on the couch or the floor but Riddle wouldn't have any of that and had ordered her to lie on the bed.

Hermione tensed as Riddle emerged from the bathroom. She heard him walking through the room before he flopped down on the bed. With a flick of his wand he switched off lamp, so that only silvery moonlight illuminated the room. Hermione tensed as Riddle slipped under the blanket right beside her. His presence was suffocating and it got even worse as he slid closer to her. Lying on his side, with his head propped up on his elbow, Riddle peered down at her. His blue eyes shone in the bright moonlight as they travelled over her. Hermione stared back at him, strangely captivated by his attention.

"You know, I was rather annoyed as Draco brought you along to Albania." Riddle cooed and ran his fingers through Hermione's hair. "But now I'm glad he did."

His fingers left her hair, instead his hand took a hold of her wrist and moved her arm. A strange glint flickered through Riddle's eyes as he stared down at the Dark Mark on Hermione's forearm. Hermione shivered as he slowly ran a finger over the mark. The mark throbbed lightly under Riddle's touch and she could feel his magic tingling all over her. A smirk adorned his features as Riddle lowered his head. Softly his lips made contact with her tattooed skin and Hermione threw in a sharp breath of air. Riddle snickered darkly as he peered at her. There was a decidedly possessive sheen in his eyes as he mused,

"No. I'm definitely glad you came along. I quite enjoy being your Master."

Riddle released her wrist but didn't grant her any more freedom. His greedy magic was tightly wrapped around Hermione as he leaned over her smaller frame. Without hesitation he crashed his lips against her own. Hermione's eyes shut tightly as Riddle claimed her with a kiss. Her arms lay uselessly by her sides and she didn't dare to raise them to push him away.

Riddle's hot lips hungrily moved against hers, his pleasant scent invaded her nostrils and his dark magic seductively hummed around her. He made her senses swirl and suddenly Hermione wondered if she actually  _wanted_  to push him away.

It was wrong  _…wrong wrong._

She should certainly  _not_  enjoy this. He was a wizard and he was  _forcing_  this on her. Hermione needed to get away from Riddle.  _Quickly!_  Her mind screamed at her to stop but, to her horror, Hermione's lips began to move against Riddle's and she returned his kiss.

Feeling this, Riddle slid even closer to her, now half lying on her. Hermione's head swirled as she felt his tongue brushing along the seam of her mouth. Gingerly the tip of his tongue slipped between her lips but didn't try to explore any further. Hermione's body prickled all over. Driven by a strange urge in the pit of her stomach, she timidly parted her lips, allowing Riddle the entrance he hadn't forced on her. As soon as she willingly invited him to deepen the kiss, Riddle shook off all traces of restraint. Almost aggressively, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and engaged her in a demanding kiss. A pleasant twinge ran through Hermione's chest as Riddle explored her mouth hungrily.

She longed to run her fingers through his silky hair but didn't dare to touch him. Riddle wasn't so shy. His hands ran over her body, groping and tugging at her shirt. Hermione tensed as his fingers met bare skin. Still, Riddle hadn't released her from his domineering kiss, his tongue forcing hers into a dance. A wild mixture of lust and fear tingled over Hermione. Helplessly she trembled under Riddle's ministrations.

While Riddle's fingers sneakily crawled over her hip and thighs, his lips also decided to wander. He traced kisses over her skin and a soft moan escaped Hermione. One hand wound itself tightly into her curly hair and tugged sharply, forcing her head back. Riddle held her firmly as his greedy lips wandered over her exposed throat. Hermione shuddered in pleasure. Riddle sucked at her heated skin and she gasped as she felt teeth scraping over her. A melodious chuckle washed over her, leaving her in goose bumps. Then Riddle's seductive voice purred contently,

"Mine."

He bent up, looming over her, and Hermione blushed deeply under his scrutiny. The air of smug self-satisfaction hung around Riddle as he smirked down at her. Before he again bent to kiss her, he hesitated. A sharp frown appeared on his face.

"Say, Hermione..." Riddle inquired, a dangerous tint to his quiet voice. "Draco never invited you to  _his_  bed, did he?"

"No," Hermione quickly replied, disturbed by the thought.

Riddle still stared down at her, the angry frown not having dropped from his face.

"Neither did Lucius Malfoy?" was his next sharp question.

Hermione wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Finally Riddle seemed to be satisfied. The frown disappeared and he leaned down for another hungry kiss. A static buzz hummed in Hermione's ears, preventing any thoughts. Riddle's hypnotizing eyes locked with hers, his face inches from hers. Feeling quite embarrassed and helpless, Hermione started to ramble,

"Well… there- there was that one time I slept in Draco's bed..."

" _What?_ " Riddle snarled.

Fury smouldered in his blue eyes as he abruptly sat up. Traces of his angry magic whirled around Riddle while he darkly glowered at the door as if he hoped Draco would pop up so he could tear the blond apart. Seeing Riddle's fury made irrational amusement bubble up in Hermione. She giggled softly and sat up in bed.

"What's so funny?" Riddle hissed irately.

"I think I was ten or eleven back then," Hermione told him smilingly. "I hadn't been in Malfoy manor for more than a month and wasn't used to the work yet. So as I was cleaning Draco's rooms I fell asleep on his bed."

"Oh," made Riddle, his anger quickly deflating.

There was still suspicion in his eyes, so Hermione explained, "As Draco found me, he was far from the mood of joining me in bed."

"What did he do?"

Hermione looked up at him and shrugged carelessly. "Well, he wrenched me out of his bed, of course, and gave me a beating."

Riddle stared at her, inscrutable expression on his face. After a while he sighed before he lay down on the bed, pulling Hermione with him. She was tugged into his chest, his arms encircling her. A blush hit her face hard, still his nearness also felt wonderfully comforting. Without further words Riddle pulled the soft blanket over the both of them.

Before Hermione drifted off to sleep, she felt her Dark Mark tingling. A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how Riddle had kissed her there. It should have been scary and disgusting but strangely wasn't.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The next day, all feeling of comfort had left Hermione as she stood before Draco Malfoy, head bent and eyes downcast, while he yelled at her furiously.

"Where have you been, Penny? I've been calling for you the whole day."

Hermione cursed herself. She should have stayed in Riddle's room, just as he had ordered her to do. But without any company or anything to do, boredom had driven Hermione crazy. Leaving for the Malfoys' library had looked like a good idea. Unfortunately, Hermione had only taken a few steps outside Riddle's room and promptly Draco had caught her and, mad with anger, had wrenched Hermione to his rooms.

"Useless thing!" the blond hissed irately, shaking Hermione by her arm.

Bellatrix, who comfortably lounged on a near-by armchair, cackled evilly and observed the whole display with twisted mirth.

"I'm sorry, Master Malfoy," Hermione whispered softly,

Immediately Draco's eyes narrowed menacingly. "'Master Malfoy'? What's that supposed to mean? I am still your Master and you will address me properly."

A slap hit Hermione before she could reply anything. Anger was bubbling up in her as her cheek throbbed painfully. She hadn't done anything wrong. Unable to completely contain her fury Hermione replied with more sass than was advisable,

"I don't belong to you anymore,  _Master Malfoy_."

"What the fuck?" Draco growled, his grip on her arm tightening.

Bellatrix snickered and suggested mockingly, "Watch out, Draco dear. Or you'll have a mutiny on your hands."

As he was hit by Bellatrix' taunt, Draco gritted his teeth in anger. His grey eyes flashed back to Hermione. Only his painfully tight hold on her stopped Hermione to cower away from the sheer amount of anger on his face.

"What is the meaning of this, Penny?" Draco inquired, barely suppressed fury warping his voice.

Hermione wanted to yell at him, tell him that he should release her. But years and years of being forced to never speak up made her mouth clamp shut. She could only manage a mumbled,

"I have a new owner, Master Mal-"

"That's ridiculous!"

Irately Draco pushed her away from him. Hermione lost her footing and fell to the floor. Her wand slipped from her cloak pocket and loudly clattered over the floor.

"What is that?"

It wasn't Draco, it was Bellatrix. She had vacated her comfortable armchair. Uncontrolled fury twisted her face as Bellatrix stooped down and picked up Hermione's wand. Her dark eyes skimmed over the wand before they flashed to Hermione. A murderous threat hung in them.

"What the  _fuck_  is this, Mudblood?" Bellatrix thundered, making Hermione flinch.

Hermione had no idea what she had done wrong so she stuttered, "I- I don't- Please, Mistress Black…"

The homicidal sheen never dropped from Bellatrix' eyes as she stalked over to Hermione. A feral snarl on her features, she shoved the wand in Hermione's face.

"Where did you steal this, Mudblood?" Despite the fury on Bellatrix' face her voice was eerily quiet.

Realization hit Hermione and her stomach curled up in fear. She didn't dare to breathe as she stared at her wand in Bellatrix' hand. Riddle might allow her to use a real wand. However, Bellatrix certainly didn't condone it.

"I have… that… can explain…" Hermione stammered, panic almost throttling her.

While Bellatrix Black was a witch who prided her pure blood, she, however, was not one above physical violence. The witch raised her hand and brutally slapped Hermione around the face. Bellatrix' long fingernails scratched painfully into Hermione's skin. Angry dark magic accompanied the attack. Hermione gasped in pain as she was hurled away and impacted painfully with a near-by table.

"You are not allowed to touch a wand, you piece of shit!" Bellatrix screamed lividly. Her stormy eyes snapped to Draco. "Did you give that bitch a wand?"

Draco shook his head and he drawled in disgust, "You know I would never do that."

Anger was still on his face, but he also seemed to be highly wary of Bellatrix' temper. The witch sneered at him, fury dangerously flaring in her eyes. Before Hermione could scramble up from the floor, Bellatrix aimed a kick at her. A whimper left Hermione as was thrown to the floor where she curled up in a tight ball. Mercilessly Bellatrix continued to kick her.

Abruptly the kicks stopped and Hermione risked a look up. Bellatrix was standing over her fallen body. All fury had left her face. Instead a sinister smile curved Bellatrix' full lips. Hermione stiffened in fright as her own wand was pointed at her.

"Now let's see if this wand is any good," Bellatrix giggled madly.

Hermione shied away from her. Laughing gleefully, Bellatrix waved the wand.

"Crucio."

There was pain. So intense it blocked all thoughts. There was only the pain. Acid was poured over Hermione's body. The substance etched away her skin, her face, her body, everything. Deeper and deeper it burned and mercilessly ate away from her flesh, exposing tendrils, destroying bone. Hermione convulsed in pain. Her throat hurt from her screaming, but over the horrible pain she couldn't hear a thing.

Abruptly, the pain was lifted from her. Hermione limply lay on the floor, her breathing going fast. Her body hurt dully but it was nothing compared to before.

"Seems the wand is alright," an amused voice snickered at her darkly. "Let's try again, shall we?"

Hermione's eyes shot open, panic flooding her. Bellatrix was looking down at her, malicious intend burning in her dark eyes and contrasting sickly with the sweet innocent smile on her face.

"No, please," Hermione begged in a broken voice.

Her plea was only met by laughter.

"Crucio."

The pain returned to her and Hermione screamed and screamed. She was twisting on the floor, a pile of limbs and trembling body. The pain lacerated her until there was nothing left of her.

It took a moment for Hermione's brain to realize that the unbearable pain was gone. Its echoes still wrenched at her nerves but slowly her thoughts returned to her.

"Tom, what are you doing?" a voice pouted. "I'm having fun here,"

"Not anymore," another voice, deeper and perfectly controlled, answered.

Hermione hurt too much to move but she cautiously opened her eyes. Bellatrix was getting up from the floor, delicately cradling her right arm against her chest. To Hermione's utter surprise Riddle stood, with his back to her, between her and Bellatrix.

"I just showed that speck of grime her place," Bellatrix grumbled indignantly, glaring at Riddle.

"I won't repeat myself," Riddle said, a murderous threat hidden behind his collected tone. "Leave her alone."

Bellatrix cowered away from him but the belligerent glint in her eyes didn't go out. Sulkily jutting out her chin, the witch mumbled,

"She's just a Mudblood. Why do you care?"

Bellatrix' threw Hermione a hateful glare. Then she fluttered her thick eyelashes innocently at Riddle and declared triumphantly,

"That Mudblood's a dirty thief. She's stolen a wand."

With that Bellatrix handed Hermione's chestnut wand over to Riddle. He didn't spare it a glance before he simply slipped it into his robe pocket.

"Look, Tom," Bellatrix cooed, throwing him an appeasing smile. "I just cursed her a teeeensy tiny bit. Why does it matter?"

"It matters, because the Mudblood belongs to me," Riddle said quietly, injecting a menacing tint into his words. "And you know how much I detest it if others dare to touch my things, don't you?"

Bellatrix took a step away from him. Confusion washed over her features as she stared at Riddle before she threw Draco a questioning glance. Riddle coldly ignored her bewilderment and stated commandingly,

"I expect you to treat my belongings with more caution from now on."

Reluctantly, Bellatrix nodded and assured disappointedly, "Okay, okay. I'll stay away from your precious Mudblood."

Draco cleared his throat and remarked cautiously, "I think you've got that wrong, Tom. Penny's my Mudblood actually."

Riddle's penetrating eyes flicked to the Slytherin. All he replied was,

"No."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"

Riddle's lips curled into a terrifying smirk. His voice was sweet as poison as he clarified,

"The Mudblood does not belong to you anymore."

Draco shook his head, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Simple: the Mudblood's mine now." The smirk on Riddle's face was now icy cold. "If you had wanted to keep her, you should have placed a stronger binding spell on her."

Draco's eyes widened at that and he tried to reason, "Tom, look. Penny belongs to my family. Years ago, my father bought her for a good price, but she was still quite expensive. I can't just give her away."

Riddle snickered, unimpressed, and remarked glacially, "Good thing then, I don't need your permission to take her."

Draco obviously wanted to further discuss this matter. Before he could argue, Riddle hissed,

"Leave now."

His order was backed up by a wave of his dark magic. Neither Draco nor Bellatrix dared to rebel against it and fled the room. Riddle turned around and looked at Hermione with his blank face. She stared back at him. By now one of her eyes was swollen shut and the left side of her face hurt. It was probably bruised horribly. Riddle took a step towards her. There still was no emotion visible on his face. His indifferent blue eyes wandered over her.

"It's your own fault," he told her indifferently.

Hermione, still trembling all over, used her arms to get into a sitting position. Her voice was rough from all the screaming as she whispered,

"Yes, Master."

"You shouldn't have let Bellatrix see you with that wand," Riddle replied coldly. "That was stupid."

"I'm sorry, Master," Hermione said weakly.

He only shrugged at that before he ordered sharply, "Get up."

Hermione obeyed him. She clenched her teeth as pain shot through her. Riddle watched with emotionless eyes as she fought to get to her feet. He didn't move to help her. Hermione suppressed a painful whimper and finally managed to stand up.

"Follow me," Riddle said callously.

Without waiting to check whether she was able to walk he turned on the spot and left the room. Hermione hastened to limp after him. At a brisk pace Riddle climbed a flight of stairs. Sharp pains shot through her body as Hermione fought to keep up with him. By the time they reached Riddle's room, Hermione was feeling faint. Dark spots danced in her vision. Riddle's sharp eyes fell on her and he commanded,

"Sit down."

Hermione didn't hesitate to obey and sank down on the bed. She faintly registered how Riddle poked through his trunk before he sat down beside her. She flinched away from him, expecting further punishment.

"I'm sorry, Master," she whispered. "I shouldn't have left your room."

Riddle didn't reply anything but reached out for her and took her head in his hands. Reflexively Hermione pulled away. His grip tightened.

"Hold still."

As he mustered the scratches on her cheek, Riddle commented dryly, "I see Bellatrix still has sharp nails, hm?"

Hermione looked up at him apprehensively. Seeing her fear, Riddle winked at her and said suggestively,

"I once had the same scratches… but on my back."

A hot blush hit Hermione hard. He sniggered as he saw it. Then he shoved a potion vial in her hands.

"Drink that."

Hermione downed the potion and almost sighed in relief as the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse left her. Riddle proceeded to gingerly rub a gooey potion on Hermione's bruised face. The pain immediately lessened. After Riddle was finished he inquired indifferently,

"Are you anywhere else hurt?"

Actually her whole body still hurt, but Hermione shook her head and whispered timidly,

"No, I'm fine, Master."

Riddle arched one disbelieving eyebrow. "So, you are fine, are you?"

Hermione nodded, not wanting to bother him further. Riddle ignored her and put his hands on her shoulders. Confused by his actions, Hermione froze. Riddle's hands left her shoulders and skimmed over her arms. She bit her lip nervously and looked up at him. Riddle still ignored her and now his hands ran over her sides. Hermione gasped in pain as he touched the sore spot on her right side where one of Bellatrix' kicks had hit her.

"Hm," made Riddle as he saw her reaction.

He pulled up her pullover and shirt to expose her right side. Sure enough a huge bruise was already blossoming on her skin. He reached for the potion he had used on her cheek and now applied it to her side.

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" Riddle asked, furrowing his brow disapprovingly at the bruise.

Hermione blinked up at him, confused. "What do you mean? Defend myself?"

Riddle sighed in irritation and explained curtly, "Regain your wand from Bellatrix. Then curse her."

Hermione quickly shook her head and instantly regretted it as it pounded again.

"I can't," she said tentatively.

Riddle made an angry sound in the back of his throat and continued to search her body for more bruises.

"You belong to me now, Hermione," he eventually told her, not looking up. "You don't need to obey the likes of Draco or Bellatrix anymore."

Hermione furrowed her brow. That was a strange thing to say. Then again, Riddle didn't know much about Mudbloods. He had said so himself.

"I have to obey every witch or wizard," Hermione corrected. "They don't have to be my Master."

A sharp frown appeared between Riddle's eyebrows as he stared at her. He obviously didn't like her answer at all.

"But you are mine."

Hermione shook her head and repeated softly, "I have to obey  _every_  wizard."

Riddle looked at her shrewdly. "And if, as your Master, I ordered you to no longer obey Draco or Bellatrix…?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't do that."

"But it's my order," he insisted stubbornly.

"I might belong to you, but it doesn't mean I'm free to ignore orders from other wizards." Hermione explained. "You might remember that I obeyed you back in Albania, although you haven't been my Master."

Riddle angrily narrowed his eyes at her, seemingly upset with this new set of rules. To clarify it, Hermione said gingerly,

"As a Mudblood, I'm forbidden to ever attack a wizard. And I always have to comply with an order a wizard gives me. If that order clashes with one of yours, though, I won't obey, but then I'll get punished."

"Punished?"

She averted her eyes from Riddle and nodded. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but wizards don't take disobedience very well. Though, if I got killed during that punishment, they have to reimburse you for the loss."

Riddle stared at her for a moment, deep in thought. He never replied anything but continued to heal her. As he was finished, Hermione felt a lot better. Riddle put the potion bottle on the bedside table. Then he reached into his robe pocket, produced Hermione's wand out of it and offered it to her.

"Thank you, Master," she mumbled.

Riddle threw her a disapproving glance as if to say that she had wasted his precious time over something entirely irrelevant. Then Riddle lazily fell back on the bed, arms beneath his head.

"You know," he informed. "As exciting as your evening seems to have been, mine wasn't bad either."

Hermione looked down at him quizzically. Riddle smirked at her smugly, obviously very pleased with himself.

"I found it," he finally disclosed.

At first Hermione didn't understand what he was talking about, but then her face lit up.

"A founder's object?" she asked excitedly. "Which one?"

"Slytherin's," he said lightly. "I know exactly where it now is."

"Where?" Hermione asked curiously.

"It's disgusting that Slytherin's heirloom should end up with such a fail of a witch," he spat. "Hepzibah Smith keeps it stuffed away in her mansion down in Cornwall."

"Are you going to buy it from her?"

Riddle glared daggers as Hermione before he sneered, "You mistake me for Malfoy. Do you think I'm made of money?"

"Then how are you going to get it?" she asked timidly.

A nasty smirk grew on Riddle's face as he scanned Hermione.

"Don't worry, I have a plan."

Before Hermione could reply anything, Riddle grabbed her arm and pulled her down to him. She squealed at the unexpected movement but Riddle's lips on her own quickly silenced her. His mouth was moving against hers, nibbling teasingly at her lower lip. Hermione was surprised. She had expected Riddle to be angry with her. After all she  _had_ disobeyed him and had left his room.

Riddle pulled her even closer so that she ended up straddling him. Hermione's hands lay on his chest to balance herself. Still kissing her fiercely, Riddle's hand released her hair and skimmed down her body. As it ran over the sore spot on Hermione's right side, she yelped softly in pain. Riddle ended their kiss. There was a sharp frown on his face as he mustered her side. His frosty blue eyes shot up at her face and he said, barely suppressed anger in his voice,

"I'm sorry. Does it still hurt?"

Though his voice hadn't at all been apologetic, Hermione still couldn't help but stare down at him wide-eyed. His words had been an empty phrase, but no-one had ever said them to her.

' _I'm sorry.'_

Trying to calm herself down, she quickly shook her head and mumbled, "No. It's fine."

The scowl on his face grew even darker. Then he reached out for Hermione and pulled her down to him, so that she lay nestled into his side.

"I swear," Riddle said, his arm tightening around her angrily. "If anyone ever touches you again, I'm going to crucio them."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"Hermione?" Riddle said, looking at her expectantly. "Come here, I need to talk with you."

Hermione walked over to him and sat on the sofa beside him. Riddle's blue eyes wandered over her contemplatively. Finally he said in his smooth voice,

"You remember we'll leave for Hogwarts tomorrow?"

Hermione smiled and nodded eagerly. "Of course, Master. I've already packed all your school things, so we can leave early. Do you think I could somehow travel with you in the Hogwarts' express? I would really like to see it. Though maybe I'm not allowed to board it. What do you think?"

Riddle rolled his eyes as the enthusiasm gushed out of Hermione. He raised a hand to stop her rant.

"Yes, Hogwarts… that's what I wanted to talk with you about," he said, his voice strangely hesitant.

Hermione's eyes widened as a swoop of fear grasped her. She averted her eyes and stared down at her hands.

"You… you don't want me to come along…" she whispered shakily.

"No, that's not it," Riddle said, his tone not insecure anymore. "But I don't want you to work at Hogwarts."

Creasing her brow, Hermione peered up at him. "W- what else should I do?"

Riddle ignored the lost look on her face and said firmly, "You are going to be a student. I already filled out the necessary paperwork and sent it off to Dippet."

She just stared up at him, completely flabbergasted by him. Weakly shaking her head, she mumbled, "That's not possible. You know that. I- I'm a Mudblood. How could _I_  ever go to Hogwarts?"

Riddle waved her concerns away with a casual movement of his hand. "Don't be stupid. You think I mentioned your birth? Pff. No, as far as Dippet's concerned you are a Pureblood."

Hermione sat on the sofa, stock-still, and stared at Riddle.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Him still must serve, him still obey,**

**And nothing act, and nothing say,**

**But what her haughty lord thinks fit,**

**Who with the power, has all the wit.**

**Then shun, oh ! shun that wretched state,**

**And all the fawning flatt'rers hate.'**

**\- Lady Mary Chudleigh**

**(*1656 †1710)**


	11. To Change Thee

"Hermione? Are you even listening to me?"

Hermione looked up and found Riddle staring at her, exasperation clear on his face. The honest answer to his question would have been 'no' but, of course, Hermione couldn't say that. So, she smiled at him sheepishly and whispered,

"Of course, Master."

Riddle quirked a sceptical eyebrow and inquired sternly, "Really? Then what did I just tell you?"

Hermione pursed her lips as her eyes fell down to the opened Transfiguration textbook in her lap. As much as she racked her brain, she simply had been too distracted and had no idea what Riddle had been going on about.

"You… you wanted me to…" Hermione guessed wildly. "To get you a cup of coffee?"

Riddle simply drowned her in a disapproving glare. A long suffering sigh left him as he flopped down on the sofa beside Hermione.

"Wrong guess," he told her dryly.

Hermione had her eyes downcast as she mumbled contritely, "I'm sorry, Master."

Riddle peered at her and commented sardonically, "Sure you are."

He snatched the Standard Book of Spells Grade 7 from the stack of books beside Hermione and lazily flipped through it. The book's cover was rather worn and some of its pages were crinkled. Riddle found a torn page and frowned angrily at the missing part.

"This is even worse than my copy," he remarked, displeased.

Hermione glanced at the tattered book in his hand. A small smile flittered over her face and she hugged the Transfiguration book against her chest.

"It's perfect," she told Riddle softly. "Thanks for buying them for me, Master."

Riddle carelessly threw the Spells book back to the others and replied indifferently, "Well, the books are required for seventh year curriculum. I hardly had a choice."

His blue eyes travelled back to her. Hermione still hugged the book, blissful smile on her face. Riddle frowned at her and stated tartly,

"See, that's what I've been talking about. Obviously I don't stand a chance against a simple book in holding your attention."

A guilty blush hit Hermione and she bowed her head. "Sorry, Master."

Riddle waved her apology away with a dismissive gesture of his hand. His frosty eyes didn't leave her as he remarked curtly,

"As I was saying before: I'm out of money now that you have your beloved books."

Hermione bit her lower lip as she peered at him. She was immensely grateful that Riddle had bought her actual books, but she still didn't see why he had done it. His idea of her going to Hogwarts was never going to work out. As much as Hermione would love to go, Riddle's plan was bound to fail.

While Hermione worried, Riddle continued his lament, "I can't get you the other things for school. A cauldron, a telescope for Astronomy, Herbology gear... everything costs a fortune…"

He ran a hand through his silky hair while sighing, "At least you already have a wand. For now, we have to share my things when necessary. The school usually has a few spare sets of equipment, too – for those idiots who forgot their stuff at home."

Hermione nervously fingered the spine of her Transfiguration book as she listened to Riddle. She still couldn't quite picture herself as a student.

"Master?"

"Hm?" made Riddle distractedly, obviously still occupied with his imaginary bill.

"Well… I…" Hermione said hesitantly. "You see, I would really love to go to Hogwarts as a student but… but I really can't. I'm not a Pureblood. Master Malfoy and Mistress Black also go to that school. They'll recognize me. Even if it wasn't for them, I can't identify myself as a Pureblood. I don't have an ID. Your school will instantly know that I'm lying and then… For a Mudblood to impersonate a Pureblood, they'll-" Hermione gulped fearfully. "I'll surely get executed."

Riddle studied her with his frosty eyes. Shyly Hermione looked back at him. A nasty sneer drifted over his handsome features and he scoffed,

"Really, Hermione. Have a bit more faith in me."

Riddle reached for a green folder, which innocently lay on the side table, and offered it to her. Hermione cautiously took it and looked at him questioningly.

"Those are your documents," Riddle explained curtly. "Birth certificate,  _ID_ , your OWL results, such stuff."

Hermione furrowed her brow and opened the folder. The first document was obviously a birth certificate. Hermione raised her eyebrows as she read the name:

' _Hermione Rookwood'_

As Riddle saw her reaction he leaned a bit towards her and pointed at the document.

"As you can see your father was Augustus Rookwood. Rookwood is undoubtedly a Pureblood name. No-one will question you about it," he told her casually. "Augustus Rookwood worked as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. A few weeks ago he was injured during one of his experiments. Although he was instantly rushed to St. Mungo's he succumbed to his severe injuries."

Hermione nodded shakily, quite impressed with the material Riddle had come up with in such short notice. With shaky hands, she picked up another document. It looked very official, with seals and certificates from the Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines.

"How…?" she stumbled breathlessly. "How could you get this?"

Riddle threw her a haughty smirk. "I'm just that good."

Hermione ran a finger reverently over a thick seal from the Ministry.  _'Rookwood, Hermione; Pureblood status: confirmed'_. Could it be that easy? Riddle still grinned smugly as he continued,

"I chose Augustus Rookwood, because he was the last in his line. He had no family whatsoever and no friends. Very reclusive man. That means there's no-one to blow your cover."

Hermione's eyes were still glued to the document as she asked,

"And my mother?"

"Millicent Rookwood née Bulstrode," Riddle told her impatiently while gesturing at another document. "The woman died fifteen years ago. Augustus never re-married." A smirk twisted his lips as he added, "Which leaves you pretty much orphaned now. And being seventeen, you are off age and don't need a legal guardian anymore."

"I see," said Hermione while her eyes scanned the document.

Riddle really had thought of everything. She glanced at him and said, still stunned by it all,

"That's really impressive."

Riddle sent her a charming smile and commented, sarcasm bending his nice words in the opposite direction,

"Why, thank you for your precious approval. Just what I wanted."

He took the green folder from her and added, now serious, "The documents are still fakes, though. They might convince Dippet and maybe an overworked official from the Department of Bloodlines, but if someone digs deeper, they won't hold for long." He threw Hermione a stern look. "You have to avoid drawing attention to your person. Do you understand?"

She quickly nodded. "Yes, Master."

Tentative hope dared to flare up in the pit of Hermione's stomach. In wonder she stared at Riddle. Was he really going to make it work? Seeing the adoration shining in Hermione's eyes, the hard look dropped from Riddle's face and a vicious smirk took over. One of his hands slipped into the pocket of his pitch black robe as he stated,

"Now to your other question…"

Hermione watched in confusion as Riddle produced a potion flask from his pocket. Offering it to her, he drawled condescendingly,

"I believe you voiced your concern about Draco and Bellatrix recognising you at school."

Made of dull dark metal, the flask rested coldly in Hermione's hand. Riddle still eyed her smugly, obviously enjoying himself. As he wasn't very forthcoming with an explanation, she asked cautiously,

"What is this, Master?"

Riddle snickered darkly. "Polyjuice Potion, my dear."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Polyjuice…?"

Riddle inclined his head, still smirking.

"Yes," he purred. "A diluted form actually."

Hermione's fingers tightened around the metal flask. "You want me to take it?"

Riddle nodded before he said matter-of-factly, "I considered using Glamours or other spells to change your appearance, but a skilled wizard would be able to counter them. Polyjuice Potion, though-" He gestured at the flask in Hermione's hands. "-can't be reversed by any magic."

"But it wears off with time," Hermione interjected. "As far as I know it only lasts for two to three hours. Tops."

"It does," replied Riddle. "But, as I said, that's diluted Polyjuice."

"Diluted?" Hermione was confused. "What does that mean, Master?"

A smirk danced around Riddle's lips as he replied, "It means that, while the potion's effects are not as strong as in the undiluted version, the duration of the effects is extended."

"I don't get-"

Riddle rolled his eyes and explained, "This potion will not completely alter your appearance. Some of your attributes will change, others will be retained. In return, though, the effects will last for up to ten hours."

Hermione furrowed her brow and asked sceptically, "And you think no-one will recognize me?"

Riddle gazed at her languidly. "You will be a Pureblood with all the necessary documents to prove it. Why would anyone try to draw a connection between Hermione Rookwood and that Mudblood from the Malfoys?"

"Hm," made Hermione, not really convinced as she eyed the flask in her hand.

Riddle didn't seem to be bothered by her scepticism. He merely raised an expectant eyebrow at her.

"Well, why don't you try it?"

Hermione's hand trembled as she unscrewed the bottle. She threw an insecure glance at Riddle. He just eyed her, impenetrable expression on his face. Hermione threw in a shaky breath of air. Then she raised the bottle, closed her eyes and took a swig from it.

Peppermint. Very strong. It burned on her tongue and down her throat. Almost alcoholic. There was something more… coppery…  _Iron?_

†

An almost-smile washed over Riddle's face as he watched Hermione cough. Holding her stomach, she stumbled away from the couch and leaned against the wardrobe, breathing heavily.

Faked papers and Polyjuice aside, having Hermione pose as a student entailed a lot of risks. Riddle's fingers ran over the metal flask as he watched indifferently how the Mudblood doubled over in pain. If Hermione were to be exposed, though, and everything went up in flames, it was her who would get burned. Not him. Only Draco and Bellatrix knew of Riddle's association with the Mudblood and he knew how to make them shut up.

With morbid fascination Riddle watched as Hermione's body started to change. He had been surprisingly  _reluctant_  to change her appearance, but the lack of an alternative forced his hand.

' _I have to obey every wizard,'_  Hermione's shaky words echoed through Riddle's mind. His magic bristled irately as he remembered how Malfoy had dared to slap Hermione. How Bellatrix  _cursed_  her. Riddle's hands balled into fists. Apparently, every  _idiot_  had the right to order  _his_  Mudblood around.  _Intolerable!_  No-one –  _No-one!_  – aside from Riddle was allowed to use her.

He  _had_  thought about hiding the little Mudblood away in his bedroom. It would be a  _pleasurable_  solution to this problem – promptly a smirk curved Riddle's lips – but it would be a waste of Hermione's talents. On top of everything, there was Hepzibah Smith and the locket to be considered. The ghost of a plan already wandered Riddle's mind. For that plan to not hit him in the face, it would be prudent that 'Tom Riddle' never owned any Mudblood. No retraceable evidence…

Riddle was pulled from his plotting as Hermione moaned softly before she stumbled and lost her balance. Instinctively he stepped forward and caught her. The potion's transformation seemed to be over. Riddle's eyes shortly skimmed over Hermione's soft hair which now was shorter, shoulder-length, and a few shades darker than before. In relief Riddle noted that it still was an untameable mass of exiting curls. Obviously the potion hadn't been strong enough to overcome her messy hair. Riddle grinned amusedly.

He took a hold of the girl's chin and bent her head up to inspect her face. Her eyes had changed. The irises were now such a dark brown, they were almost indiscernible from the black pupils. Gently Riddle ran a finger over her cheekbones. They were higher, sharper, making her face look more angular. He wasn't sure he liked it. He would need time, getting used to that new face. Riddle's fingers skimmed down her cheek, making Hermione shiver under his touch. A smirk tucked at the corners of his mouth as he ran his finger over her lips. Thankfully the Polyjuice Potion had left them untouched. They were still deliciously red, plump and very soft.

He wanted to bite them. Why he would enjoy doing that to a Mudblood, Riddle had stopped to ponder. Now that the girl belonged to him, he didn't need any justifications anymore. She was powerful, she was smart and she was  _his_. After all, he wouldn't be the first one to  _enjoy_  a Mudblood more than was decent.

As the girl looked up at him, Riddle could still see traces of his little Mudblood in her features. Yet she also resembled that Muggle girl he had got the hair from. Riddle snickered darkly.  _Poor thing._   _But no need to tell Hermione about her._

Riddle's fingers left her face and teasingly skimmed over her neck. He quite enjoyed the contrast of his pale hand against her now tanned skin. Amused, Riddle noted how the Mudblood trembled as his fingers curled around her neck. Her pretty eyes widened anxiously. Her fear thrilled him. What did she expect? That he would…  _choke_  her?

A cold laugh escaped Riddle. He couldn't blame her. He  _had_  tried that before. Back then, he hadn't known how very valuable Hermione truly was. Abruptly Riddle removed his hand from her neck. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he pulled her small body flush against his. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. A sly smile danced around Riddle's mouth. Another thing the Polyjuice Potion had changed. This time, though, he wasn't about to complain.

Riddle's hand wandered to the back of Hermione's head. Not waiting for her consent, he bent down and captured her mouth with his. Contently Riddle nibbled at her fat lower lip. A smirk begged to take shape on his own lips as he felt how the little Mudblood shuddered under his ministrations. She even nestled a bit closer to him. Riddle wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. Once again, his self-restraint flew out of the window and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss. He was pleased to notice that she still tasted the same. Strangely exciting. Riddle let his magic wrap around his little prey and enjoyed how her Dark Mark reacted so obediently to his claim to power. She was still  _his_. Domineeringly Riddle rubbed his tongue against hers and heard a little sigh coming from her. She did enjoy that, didn't she?

Smiling viciously, Riddle ended the kiss. Hermione blinked and looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy and a pink hue coloured her cheeks. He fully enjoyed that embarrassed look on her face. Stepping a bit away from her, Riddle reached for her left arm and pulled up the sleeve of her pullover. The Dark Mark was still there. As expected.

"My mark's not disguised?" the Mudblood exclaimed worriedly, her voice suspiciously shaky.

Riddle glanced at her and explained, "It can't be hidden. Not even with Polyjuice. You'll have to wear long sleeves at all times."

Another risk. Riddle sighed inwardly while he handed the potion flask to Hermione and ordered,

"I want you to take the potion three times a day."

"Yes, Master"

Riddle enjoyed how that word fell from her soft lips. Finally it was directed at the right person. Hermione nervously fingered the flask as she inquired,

"How am I going to hide it from the students?"

Riddle smirked at her. "Sometimes it's best to hide in plain sight. So, due to a chronic ailment, Hermione Rookwood has to take a potion every day."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

With huge eyes Hermione took in King's Cross Station as she followed Riddle, a few steps behind him. She was on her way to Hogwarts. Excitement fluttered through her stomach while a happy smile was permanently plastered all over her face. Hermione could barely believe her luck. She was truly going to school. Not in her wildest dreams, had she dared to hope for something like that

"Come here." Riddle's deep voice brought her out of her musings.

Hermione blinked but then quickly stepped over to him, giving up the servile distance she had kept. Riddle scanned her with a detached look on his face.

"You really need to stop creeping around like the mute servant you so like to impersonate."

With that he continued his way, keeping Hermione now right beside him.

"You're a Pureblood," Riddle continued in his silky voice. "Behave like one. If you continue to prostrate before everyone you meet, people will get suspicious. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

Riddle nodded. He scanned her for a moment, before he inquired, "You remember what I told you about the house system at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Master," answered Hermione, smiling happily. "There's Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Huffl-"

"I want you to end up in Slytherin," Riddle cut over her.

Hermione frowned in confusion. "I didn't know I could choose my house. How should I-"

"New students are sorted into their respective houses by the Sorting Hat," Riddle explained, smirking at her. "Make sure that it puts you into Slytherin."

Hermione shrugged. "Okay."

"After you enter Slytherin I don't want you to speak to me – at least for a few days." Riddle continued in his velvety voice. "You're a transfer student, so we, of course, don't know each other yet."

Unbidden, insecurity bubbled up in Hermione. Somehow she had hoped that Riddle would 'show her around' so to speak.

"Yes, Master," whispered Hermione reluctantly.

Riddle didn't seem to care about her upcoming anxiety at all. With an uncompassionate look on his face, he shoved Hermione over to a brick wall between platforms nine and ten. A vague advice was all she got from him.

"You have to run through it."

†

Hermione sat in a crowded compartment of the Hogwarts' Express, squeezed in between a bunch of third years. Luckily the kids didn't pay her the slightest attention, preferring it to share stories of their Christmas holidays. Hermione was tense. The compartment – the whole train – was full of witches and wizards. Surely someone would punish her for her impudence of sitting with wizards.

Hermione forced herself to look out of the window. The rough wilderness of Scotland rushed by. The grey sky hung low, heavy with snow, and the highlands were shrouded in a haze. Hermione exhaled a shaky breath of air. Riddle was probably sitting just a few compartments away, chatting with his friends, while she could only hope that his crazy plan would work out.

It was a few hours later that Hermione finally stepped out of the train. Hogwarts' uniform felt strange on her skin. Seemingly she fit in well with the other dark-robed students, but Hermione felt like a thick wall separated them. She was following the other students, as a voice stopped her.

"Hermione?" that voice called. "Hermione Rookwood?"

Her new name sounded foreign to Hermione, but she still turned around. A tall and slender girl walked towards her, big smile on her face. Her hair was almost as black as the nightly sky above them.

"Y- yes?" stuttered Hermione cautiously.

"Excellent," the girl declared happily. "I've been searching for you. Couldn't find you in the train."

"Er…"

"My name's Lisa Turpin," the girl introduced herself. "I'm Head Girl."

"H-hello," mumbled Hermione shyly.

Turpin smiled at her encouragingly and explained, "The Headmaster told me to look after you and bring you safely to the castle."

Hermione tried to smile at the girl. "Thank you."

Turpin waved away Hermione's thanks, still smiling amicably. Despite the Head Girl's kindness, Hermione felt incredibly nervous. Cautiously she followed Turpin away from Hogsmeade train station. Hermione flinched violently as a second or third year student accidentally brushed her left arm. She pulled her arm securely against her side, acutely aware of the Dark Mark on her forearm. Only a thin layer of cloth hid it away from prying eyes.

Fortunately, Turpin hadn't noticed Hermione's peculiar behaviour. In a good mood, she ushered Hermione to a carriage. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the Threstrals, harnessed in front of the carriages. The fearsome beasts looked strangely docile.

"It's not far," Turpin informed as they had settled down inside the carriage.

Hermione nodded at the smiling girl before she again cast her head down.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" the Head Girl inquired kindly.

"Yes," Hermione replied quickly.

It made Turpin laugh softly. "No need to be so nervous. When we get to the castle, the Headmaster'll will have a quick word with you. Then you can join the welcome feast in the Great Hall. I think you'll get sorted then, too."

Panic once again mounted up in Hermione. Seeing this, the Head Girl continued soothingly, "It's nothing to be alarmed at. Really. The sorting's a piece of cake and the other students are really nice."

Hermione wasn't so sure about that. What if that 'sorting' didn't work with her because she was a Mudblood? Hermione glanced out the carriage's window. A soft gasp left her. Not far away she could see Hogwarts castle standing majestically amidst the Scottish landscape. An endless forest stretched out behind the impressive castle. The sun had long since set, but Hogwarts' many windows were lit and shone in a golden light, merrily playing with the surrounding darkness.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded at the Head Girl's comment, still enthralled with the view of the castle. Her previous panic dropped into the background. Hermione couldn't believe it. Was she really going to  _live_  here? Excitement warmly fluttered up in her. Not only live here, but be able to learn, too? A smile tugged at her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, this was really going to work out.

†

Hope and excitement still danced through Hermione as she stepped into the castle. Wonder glittered in her eyes as she took in the polished flagstones of the floor, the arched high ceiling and the beautiful stone gargoyles, standing here and there in alcoves in the walls. Awestruck Hermione followed the Head Girl, who was decidedly unimpressed by Hogwarts' beauty.

Turpin headed for a large doorway. The other students filed, laughing and chatting cheerfully, through the door and into the room behind. Turpin didn't follow them, but stopped in front of a tall, stern-looking woman, clad in nothing but black, and a smaller man. Hunched over with old age, the man leaned heavily on a richly decorated walking stick. Feeble grey hair grew here and there on his almost bald head. His small eyes were of a washed-out blue colour as they wandered over Hermione.

"Ah," said the white-haired man. "You must be Ms Rookwood."

"Yes, sir," Hermione quickly replied.

The old man nodded placidly before he turned to Turpin and said, "Thank you for taking care of our new student, Ms Turpin."

The Head Girl smiled. "No problem, Headmaster."

Then she excused herself and walked away, probably to join her friends. Meanwhile the Headmaster returned his attention to Hermione.

"Now, Ms Rookwood," he said in his feeble voice. "This is Professor McGonagall." He gestured at the strict-looking woman beside him. "Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress. And I am Professor Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Hermione threw him a small smile, not really knowing how to behave in social situations like these.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she whispered politely. "Thank you for admitting me into your school."

The Headmaster nodded gravely. "I was very sad to hear about your father. Why, I remember Augustus as he was a student at this very school."

Dippet sighed deeply, then he continued, "I'm sure he would be proud, knowing that his daughter goes to the same school."

"I hope so, Headmaster," Hermione said cautiously.

This was probably the longest conversation she ever had with a wizard – aside from Riddle of course – without her getting yelled at. The Headmaster glanced at the door through which the other students had disappeared.

"I think everyone is assembled in the Great Hall," Dipped commented. "Now, Ms Rookwood, I'll announce your presence to your peers, while Professor McGonagall explains how you'll get sorted."

A smile stretched Dippet's ancient face as he said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Then the Headmaster swept away into the Great Hall.

"As you surely know-" McGonagall said, her voice as sharp as the glint in her eyes. "-Hogwarts' students are sorted into Houses. During your time here, your house will be your family."

Hermione nodded while she listened to McGonagall listing the different houses. In the end, she didn't really care what house she got into. As long as she was able to go to classes, she was happy. A small smile slid on Hermione's face.

"Ms Rookwood," McGonagall's strict voice brought her out of her musings. "If you please follow me.

Hermione's heart beat ridiculously fast as McGonagall led her into the Great Hall. The other students were already seated at four huge tables. It was so silent, Hermione's steps clacked loudly on the hall's stone floor. She tried to ignore the hundreds of eyes which were clued on her. Hermione glimpse candles, hovering in mid-air, an arched ceiling, which was bewitched to show the night sky, an almost decadent amount of delicious foods on the tables.

Finally McGonagall stopped standing beside a stool. Curiously enough an ancient looking wizard's hat sat on that stool. Throwing McGonagall a questioning glance, Hermione stepped over to the witch. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on her. McGonagall handed her the old and battered hat then she gestured for Hermione to sit on the chair. Hermione did as she was told and slid the hat on her head with shaky hands.

' _Why, hello,'_  she heard an enthusiastic voice in her head.  _'Haven't had one of your kind in years and years."_

' _W- what kind?'_  Hermione dared to ask.

The disembodied voice answered merrily,  _'New blood, of course, my dear.'_

That made Hermione panic. No-one was supposed to know she was a Mudblood.

' _Please, don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to be here. They would punish me.'_

The voice chuckled and said,  _'No, Ms Granger. You are supposed to be here. Believe me that.'_ Then the voice continued jovially,  _'Now let's see. Where to put you… where do you fit…? I see an overwhelming thirst for knowledge. Very impressive. Ravenclaw would help you to satisfy that thirst. But your loyalty is great, too. Hm, maybe Hufflepuff? Difficult, you are. I like the challenge…'_

Remembering Riddle's order, Hermione voiced shyly,  _'Could you put me into Slytherin?'_

' _Tsk tsk, Ms Granger,'_  the voice chided her cheerfully.  _'Slytherin is indeed an esteemed house but I see few of their traces in you. Why don't you leave the choice to me?'_

' _Please,'_ Hermione begged.  _'I need to be there.'_

' _You do?'_  the voice asked sceptically.  _'Or is it someone else? I am here to sort you, Ms Granger, and not Mr Riddle. Don't worry, I think I know where to put you. You are loyal but how much is forced? Yet, you are still here, braving the world. You are a true-_'

"Gryffindor!" the head screamed out, for everybody in the hall to hear.

Hermione tried to hide her terror as she removed the hat from her head. Professor McGonagall smiled at her warmly as she took the hat from Hermione's shaky hands. Then she gestured to the table where students in red and gold applauded loudly. A small smile flittered over Hermione's mouth as she saw all these happy faces. They smiled for her, because they wanted her to be with them. Warmth wrapped around Hermione as she walked over to her house mates.

Then her gaze shortly strayed from Gryffindor and landed on the Slytherin table. Hermione's smile died on her face as she looked at Riddle. There was a dark expression on his face as he glared at her. Hermione gulped and hurriedly walked over to the Gryffindors.

"Here," a voice called for her. "Sit down here."

Gratefully Hermione plopped down beside the red-haired boy. Mirth sparkled in his blue eyes as he grinned at her.

"So, you are a transfer, eh?" he said lightly while filling his plate with chicken drums. "Never had any of 'em."

"Erm… y-yes," Hermione stuttered, not used to such friendly wizards.

The redhead smiled at her amiably and offered her a hand.

"Ron Weasley."

Flabbergasted, Hermione shook his hand and mumbled, "Hermione Rookwood."

"Yeah, Dippet just told us." Shrugged Ron.

The big grin still was on his face as he gestured at the boy sitting next to him.

"That's Seamus Finnigan."

The boy with sandy hair grinned and inclined his head while Ron already continued, gesturing at different people,

"Alicia Spinnet, our famous Quidditch captain. That bloke over there is Dean Thomas. Watch out he's a real heartbreaker, that one. Now, this nice lady is Parvati Patil…"

On and on he went, introducing people. Hermione nodded timidly at everyone. The Gryffindors all smiled at her openly and made her feel a bit better. Still, it was difficult for Hermione to talk with all those witches and wizards. Anxiously she stared down at her plate. A warm hand on her shoulder startled her. Hermione's head snapped up and she blinked at Ron. The boyish grin on his face instantly calmed her down.

"No need to worry, Hermione," he said soothingly. "You'll get to know them in no time… and then you'd be happy to obliviate them out of your head again."

That exclamation was followed by a lot of laughter from the other Gryffindors. Dean playfully hit Ron over the back of his head and admonished,

"Pull yourself together, man. She's going to take that seriously because she doesn't know you're an idiot."

They all laughed heartily and even Ron joined in.

"Say, Hermione," Seamus said. "How come you only now start at Hogwarts?"

"Oh… er…," Hermione mumbled, remembering the cover story Riddle had made up for her. "You see, I was home-schooled by my father until now. But… not long ago he had an accident and… died."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Seamus said gravely.

Ron gently laid his hand on her forearm, right above her Dark Mark. Hermione tensed. He scanned her and said sadly,

"Yeah, that's horrible. But don't worry, we'll make you feel right at home here."

"Thanks," stuttered Hermione.

†

It was after the feast that Hermione walked with her housemates to the Gryffindor common room. Seamus, Dean and Ron were by her side.

"I promise, you'll like it here. It's great fun," Ron said enthusiastically. "…well, okay, Potions is not so much fun. Unless you are really good. Transfiguration is pretty hard, too." Ron scratched his head and added, "Well, charms can be tricky, too. Just like Arithmancy."

Seamus stepped over to Hermione and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," he told her. "It's not that difficult. Ron is just stupid."

Ron looked at his friend, affronted, which made Seamus and Dean break down in giggles. Ron just shrugged and then he, too, laughed heartily. Hermione smiled at him.

Tears of laughter still in his eyes, Ron told her, "What's really fun is Quidditch, though. I'm Keeper for Gryffindor." His twinkling blue eyes fell on her and he asked, "Do you play?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Actually, I've never been on a broom either."

Ron's eyes almost fell out of his head. "Not on a broom?" he wailed loudly. "That can't be. Merlin, how horrible."

Hermione shuffled nervously. Maybe normal witches knew how to fly?

Seeing her insecurity, Ron smiled at her and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry," he reassured. "I'll teach you how to fly."

Hermione smiled up at him. Just as she wanted to thank him, a cold voice interrupted them.

"Excuse me, Weasley."

The three boys and Hermione turned around. Hermione stiffened as she saw Riddle standing in the corridor. He was flanked by two Slytherin boys. One was Draco. There was no recognizing look in his face as he glanced at Hermione. Still, a menacing air hung around all three Slytherins. Hermione felt fear mounting up in her as she gazed at Riddle. Cold fury danced in his eyes as he glared at her.

"What do you want, Riddle?" Ron sneered hostilely, the easy grin having left his face.

Hermione saw Draco's hand wandering to his wand as he heard Ron's snide tone. Riddle stopped him with a small wave of his hand. Then his frosty eyes snapped back to Ron. A dangerous smile appeared on his face as he scanned the Gryffindor.

"I want you to keep your hands off my girlfriend," Riddle said in an emotionless and completely composed voice.

That made all of them gape at Riddle. Even Draco seemed to be surprised by the news. Though he could hide his shock better than Ron whose mouth had fallen open.

"Ex- excuse me?" the read-head inquired weakly.

Riddle threw him a glare. "I want you to not touch my girlfriend."

Ron couldn't reply a thing and his eyes wandered from Riddle to Hermione. Hermione had completely tensed in shock. What did he try to do? She stared at Riddle. His eyes only shortly flickered to her but she could still see that warning glint in them.

"Hermione?" she heard Ron's confused voice. "Is that true? Riddle is your boyfriend?"

She looked at him and Hermione could see disappointment dulling his eyes. In any way, she had to go along with Riddle's wishes. So, Hermione replied softly,

"Yes."

If it was possible, Ron's eyes grew even larger. Dean and Seamus just gawked at her. Hermione felt very exposed right now. Riddle on the other hand smirked nastily, seemingly enjoying the scene. Then he said in his deep voice,

"Hermione? A word?"

Before she could reply, Riddle grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. Swiftly he stalked down a corridor, away from the other students, before he pulled Hermione in a dark classroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, Riddle rounded on her.

"What happened?" he snapped, making Hermione flinch. "Didn't I tell you to come to Slytherin?"

"Yes, Master," Hermione replied shyly. "I tried. But the hat wouldn't-"

"Stop calling me 'Master'. What if someone hears? Are you stupid?" Riddle hissed at her furiously.

Hermione cowered before him, trembling in fear. "I- I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

He narrowed his eyes at her. His hand reached out for her and fingered the red and gold hem of her robe. A look of disgust appeared on his face.

"Gryffindor?" he sneered. "I suppose it couldn't have been worse."

Hermione peered up at him timidly. "I'm sorry."

Riddle just rolled his eyes at her display of fear. "You need to stop acting like a deer caught in the headlights or they'll become suspicious."

Hermione nodded and looked down at her shoes.

"Here's your time table by the way," he told her sharply.

She looked up at him. Riddle was handing her a slip of paper.

"I told McGonagall I would give it to you," he explained gruffly. "And I made sure you ended up in most of my classes. This way I can keep an eye on you so you don't make a fool of yourself."

"Thank you, Mas- Tom," Hermione said, her voice trembled as she called him by his first name.

She could see his eyes narrowing angrily as she called him 'Tom' but he didn't comment.

"Good. Now follow me," he said commandingly.

Without hesitation she obeyed him and followed him out of the classroom.

"I'll bring you to your common room," Riddle explained curtly.

Hermione could have sworn she heard him sneer a disdainful " _Gryffindor_ ". They walked through the castle in silence while Hermione tried to keep up with Riddle's brisk pace. Still she had time to goggle in amazement at the moving staircases, the many portraits and even a silvery ghost as they climbed up to the seventh floor. They just entered a dark corridor as Riddle stopped and turned around to her. His eyes were eerily emotionless as Hermione shyly peered up at them.

"Now, to a few rules, Hermione," Riddle whispered, his voice deathly cold. "You might be a Hogwarts student now but that doesn't change the fact that you belong to me. Is that clear?"

Hermione quickly nodded. "Of course."

"I expect you to come to the Heads' common room right after classes each day," he ordered harshly. "You are not going to participate in any extracurricular activities like Quidditch or any clubs and you are not allowed to leave the castle unless you have my permission. If you make any problems, you can be sure that I'll punish you severely. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Tom," she replied shakily.

He threw her another intimidating glare. Then he shoved her over to a portrait of a rather corpulent woman.

"The password's 'mooncalf'."

Before Riddle turned to leave Hermione bowed to him, out of reflex. She cringed as warm fingers grasped her chin. They were gentle, though, as they tilted her head up. Riddle's face was still covered by an unreadable mask, but the menacing glint had by now left his starkly blue eyes. Even a small smile hung from his lips. Gingerly Riddle skimmed his fingers over Hermione's cheek as he murmured,

"I told you, there's no need to bow."

Cupping her cheek in his hand, he stooped down to her and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she felt his mouth gently pressing against her own. A strange tingling feeling swelled up in her stomach and almost made her burst.

As Hermione finally opened her eyes again, Riddle had already left. Her mouth curved into a smile. Feeling quite elated, Hermione turned and muttered the password to the portrait before she entered the Gryffindor tower.

†

"So you are really  _Tom Riddle_ 's girlfriend?" Lavender asked curiously.

Hermione nodded shyly. She had managed to escape the inquiring questions down in the Gryffindor common room, and had fled to her dorm. But now her dorm mates continued to press her.

"Wow," made Parvati, sitting down beside Lavender on the bed.

She reached into a bag of Bertie Bott's and plopped a green bean into her mouth. Both girls were staring at Hermione as if she was some kind of alien.

"Don't take me the wrong way," Lavender said finally. "But are you not  _scared_  of him?"

Parvati nodded her head in agreement. Their stares made Hermione shift uncomfortably on the bed. She was not used to witches talking with her like this. Like they were equals. She didn't know how to behave.

Parvati elbowed her friend in the side and chided, "Now you've frightened her."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Lavender said contritely. "I'm sure Riddle's nice to you. Don't listen to me."

"Yeah," Parvati agreed. "And he really looks good, too. He's the hottest guy around here."

Hermione glanced at them insecurely. "W- why should he scare me?"

"Aww, don't worry about it," Parvati said quickly. "It's just that Riddle's got a rather … _peculiar_  reputation. But I'm sure it's all stupid talk. He's Head Boy after all."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What kind of a reputation?"

Parvati glanced at Lavender before she said uncomfortably, "Er… he's… well, he seems kinda dark. And his friends? I don't know… even the other Slytherins are scared of them."

"Yeah. And Riddle's their leader." Lavender nodded solemnly. "Then there was this thing with Lisa Turpin. You see, she's Head Girl this year. Everything was alright but just a week into the school year, she suddenly refused to go back to the Heads' dorms. She never said why. But suddenly she was incredibly jumpy around Riddle."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **I would not wish thee other than thou art;**

**I love thee, love, so well in every part,**

**That had I power to change thee**

**In form or face or mind,**

**I could not find**

**The heart to re-arrange thee.'**

**\- William Cosmo Monkhouse**

**(*1840 †1901)**


	12. Wild Winds

Riddle took a sip from his tea while he mentally went over the prefect meeting he had appointed for later this day. It was going to be tedious. While being Head Boy certainly had its advantages, the chores that came with the job were equally irritating. Riddle secretly wished he could just go back to bed as an annoying voice interrupted his thoughts,

"So, how'd you meet her?"

Riddle took another sip from his tea, before he turned his eyes on the speaker. Dolohov grinned at him, his eyebrows raised. The other Slytherins around them literally leaned in to get snippets of this conversation. Riddle unhurriedly put his cup of tea down before he let his calm gaze rest on Dolohov.

"Who?" he asked indifferently.

"Hogwarts' newest mystery, of course." The sleazy smirk on Dolohov's face widened. "Hermione Rookwood."

 _Oh, her_. Riddle threw a look at the Gryffindor table. It was relatively empty. Gryffindors were known to be notoriously late risers. Quickly his eyes fell on Hermione. The girl sat alone, head bent over her plate, and obviously too scared to make eye contact with anyone. Riddle sighed inwardly. Well, he probably should be grateful that the Mudblood didn't try to serve the others at her table.

"Riddle, Riddle." Dolohov shook his head in mock exasperation. "You  _gotta_  stop taking all the good ones. Soon only Hufflepuffs will be left for poor guys like me."

Riddle promptly narrowed his eyes, irritated by the other's inaneness.

"I have to admit," Draco Malfoy's snobbish voice butted in. "For a Gryffindor, Rookwood really  _is_  quite the looker."

Riddle cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at Malfoy. The blond's grey eyes interestedly scanned the Gryffindor in question.

"So what is it? Pleasure or business?" Dolohov abandoned all traces of playfulness, his tone now calculating.

Riddle lazily leaned back in his seat and allowed his lips to curl up into a smirk while his frosty blue eyes slowly wandered over his Mudblood.

"Both, Dolohov," Riddle snickered darkly. "Always both."

There was not even a hint of surprise on Dolohov's face.

"What about Amy Belby then?" Regulus piped in.

Riddle furrowed his brow at the scrawny boy. Regulus Black. He still couldn't believe that the pathetic boy was Bellatrix' cousin. Riddle smirked sadistically as Regulus winced under his scrutiny. How had that poor excuse for a wizard managed to end up in Slytherin?  _Probably his family name_ , he decided maliciously.

"Amy Belby?" Riddle supplied evilly. "Was a nice shag."

The Slytherins, seated around him, snickered and Riddle almost rolled his eyes. Really? What did they think he was? Of course he had never touched the mousy Ravenclaw. He had standards after all. The Founders' book had been all he had ever wanted from the worthless girl.

"And Rookwood?" Goyle asked, leering dirtily at the Gryffindor table. "I bet  _she's_  a good fuck."

At the notion Riddle's magic flared dangerously. He kept it in check but there was definitely anger building up in him. Riddle turned to Goyle and eyed the boy icily.

"That, Mr Goyle, is none of your business."

Riddle's voice was quite, almost drowned by the loud chatter in the Great Hall, still the sharp edge hidden underneath made everybody around him stiffen uncomfortably. Goyle nodded fearfully, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. Riddle threw one last menacing glare at the boy, before he grabbed his black messenger bag and strolled to the Great Hall's exit. Classes were to begin shortly and he hated being late. Riddle spotted Hermione standing by the doors, looking quite lost.

"Hermione," he greeted as he reached her.

She jumped, not having noticed his approach. Hastily she whirled around to him. A bit of her nervousness seemed to drop from her as she recognized him. Riddle felt strangely satisfied as he saw a tentative smile on her lips.

"Mas- Tom," Hermione whispered in greeting.

Ignoring her almost slip-up, Riddle chastised her sternly, "I'm pretty sure you should already be on your way to Ancient Runes."

"Y- yes, I know," she quickly assured. "I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing for everything."

Hermione only nodded at him, now clearly avoiding his gaze. Riddle narrowed his eyes at her. She seemed to be rather jumpy, scared even.

"What's wrong?" he harshly demanded to know.

Hermione flinched at his sharp tone of voice but then raised her eyes at him.

"Nothing. Really," she said weakly and attempted a smile. "I'm fine."

 _What a pathetic lie_. Riddle inwardly shook his head at her. He glanced at her hands which nervously twisted the strap of her bag, obviously trying to hide how shaky they were.

"What is wrong?" Riddle repeated sternly.

Hermione worried her lip as she peered up at him. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, a group of third years passed by, chatting noisily. Immediately Hermione's mouth clapped shut and she eyed the third years apprehensively.

"Okay," Riddle said slowly. He grabbed her by her arm and ordered, "Follow me. I'll bring you to your classroom."

Hermione nodded and mumbled an embarrassed, "Thank you."

Head bent, the little Mudblood walked beside him as he led her through Hogwarts' corridors.

"So? No other Gryffindor taking advanced Ancient Runes?" Riddle inquired, scornful undercurrent in his voice.

Her dark-brown eyes peered up at him. Then she quickly shook her head and again avoided his gaze. Riddle supressed a sigh and asked irritably,

"What's bothering you so much?"

The girl didn't look up at him but he noticed how she stepped closer to him. Finally she whispered,

"They are going to notice."

Riddle arched an eyebrow. "Notice what?"

Again her eyes flashed at him, swimming with insecurity, and she disclosed in a hushed voice,

"It's so obvious I don't belong. They'll notice and then… and then…"

Hermione nestled against him, grabbing his arm with both her hands. She hid her face in his shoulder and said shakily,

"They'll catch me and sentence me to death."

Riddle stopped walking and let his blue eyes wander over the trembling girl. He was surprised that he didn't feel disgusted by her display of weakness. And it wasn't  _entirely_  unpleasant to have her small body pressed against his. He raised a hand and carded his fingers through her hair.

"They won't," Riddle said confidently.

Hermione grabbed him even tighter. He felt her shaking her head against his shoulder.

"I'll mess up… they'll see my mark…"

Riddle snickered as he heard the panic slowly twisting around her voice. Her hands still clasped his arm tightly. He bent down to her and was immediately hit by the sweet scent of coconut coming from her hair. A smirk was on his lips as he wondered where exactly she had stolen that shampoo from because he had certainly not bought it for her. Then he hissed in her ear, harshness ridging his steely tone,

"You belong to me now."

Riddle peeled her hands away from him and held her by the shoulders at arm's length. His eyes cruelly bored into her brown ones as he warned her, cold authority in his voice,

"And I do not tolerate failures."

Most people would have squirmed under his gaze, but not Hermione. She just stared back at him with big eyes. She even seemed to draw confidence from what had been meant as a subtle threat. A small smile was on her face and she nodded at him. Riddle was slightly distracted by that curl of her lips and decided to close the topic. He grabbed her hand and continued to lead her to her classroom. After a few steps Hermione asked tentatively,

"Can't you come with me to Ancient Runes?"

Riddle smirked at the hope in her eyes. That must have been the first time that someone, who had taken a peek behind his many masks, wanted him close. Well, aside from Bellatrix, but the witch didn't count because, frankly, she was insane.

"It's a Gryffindor – Ravenclaw class," Riddle lectured Hermione. "If you had listened to me and let the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin, you wouldn't have this problem now."

Now the girl actually scowled at him, Riddle realized in amusement.

"It wasn't my fault," she grumbled. "The hat said I wouldn't fit into Slytherin."

"Pff, not able to convince a shabby old hat? It only proves that you lack in cunning," scoffed Riddle, smirking at her. "What  _have_  I been thinking? You could have never survived in Slytherin."

Hermione huffed at him and lectured snappishly, "I'll have you know Gryffindor is a fine house. Your description was a bit  _biased_ , wasn't it?"

Riddle's eyes widened in mock hurt and he asked mordantly, "Are you accusing me of being prejudiced?"

"No," the Mudblood said earnestly. "You're one of the least prejudiced wizards I've met so far."

Riddle cocked an eyebrow and commented wryly, "With that attitude you should have ended up in Hufflepuff."

"Actually," said Hermione contemplatively. "The hat considered putting me into Hufflepuff."

He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Really?"

As she nodded importantly, Riddle couldn't help but snicker. Hermione scowled at him reproachfully. At least the nervousness had left her. It wouldn't do for her to be her normal submissive Mudblood self. Although he liked it – Riddle smirked evilly – her timidness would only draw unwanted attention. Riddle put his hand on the small of Hermione's back and shoved her over to her classroom. A bunch of Ravenclaws, noses in their books, already waited in front of the door for the Ancient Runes professor.

"Don't embarrass me," Riddle warned Hermione.

†

Cautiously Hermione sat down at one of the tables. For a moment she dared not breathe, fearing that someone would start yelling at her and demand to know what she did in a classroom. Nothing happened. The Ravenclaws had all settled down, talking among themselves. No-one took offence with Hermione's presence.

_I'm sitting in a classroom!_

A lopsided grin hung at Hermione's lips as the teacher, Professor Wenlock, entered the room. A welcoming smile on her face, the slightly chubby woman beamed at her class. Her hair was put up in a rather messy bun and was almost as white as the witch's robes she wore. Hermione instantly liked the professor. The woman reminded her strongly of Maggie, the cook at Malfoy manor.

"It's good to see you all back," Professor Wenlock said happily.

Her gaze wandered over the class of Ravenclaws until it got stuck on Hermione's golden and red trimmed robes.

"Oh, what do I see?" the professor exclaimed merrily. "A new student. You must be Ms Hermione Rookwood."

Now that the focus of attention rested fully on her, Hermione's tenseness returned full force, making her slightly nauseous.

"Y- yes, Professor," she mumbled shyly.

Wenlock happily clapped her hands. "Good, good. It's always nice to meet new faces. I hope you feel right at home here at Hogwarts."

With that the professor commenced with her class. Hermione listened attentively as Wenlock lectured about the distribution of the runic alphabet during the Migration Period. The professor ended her talk as she waved her wand and a verse, written in runes, appeared on the black board.

"Try translating this protection spell," Wenlock encouraged. "I know it's difficult as we haven't yet covered some of those runes. Just see how far you can get."

Now and then consulting her textbook, Hermione worked on the translation. It wasn't as difficult as she had thought after Wenlock's words. After all, Hermione had read almost all the books about runes in the Malfoys' library. So she was able to make quick work.

It only took her half an hour to finish her translation. Hermione scanned the class and realized that the other students were still working. Suspiciously Hermione stared down at her parchment. Maybe she had made a mistake? Otherwise she couldn't have been finished before the others.

"Are you stuck, Ms Rookwood?" inquired a kind voice.

Startled, Hermione looked up. Professor Wenlock had stepped over to her.

"No, professor," Hermione replied softly. "I'm finished."

"Indeed?" Wenlock raised her eyebrows.

She reached for Hermione's parchment and scanned the translation. Nervously worrying her bottom lip, Hermione watched the professor. Her translation was probably incorrect. Trepidation clenched her heart. Hopefully she wasn't going to fail this class… What if she wasn't good enough for  _any_  of the classes? After all, Hermione never went to school. What if she failed one class after the other? Riddle would surely pull her out of school. And then? What would she do then? Hermione's breathing was shallow with panic as she already saw herself being thrown away by Riddle.

"Ms Rookwood," the professor's voice penetrated Hermione's erratic thoughts.

She fearfully raised her face and looked up at the white-haired woman. To Hermione's surprise she found a wide smile on Wenlock's face. The professor positively beamed down at her.

"That is a flawless translation. I am impressed. Take ten points for Gryffindor."

"Thank you, Professor," stuttered Hermione, surprised by the outcome.

"Would you like to go to the black board and share your work?" Wenlock questioned kindly.

An hour later, Hermione left the Ancient Runes classroom with a happy smile on her face. With a skip in her step she walked down a corridor. Her next class was Herbology and she somehow had to find her way to the greenhouses. Hermione reached for her robe pocket and retrieved a metallic potion flask. She shuddered as she gulped down a mouthful of Polyjuice Potion. As she stored the flask away, her fingers skimmed her wand. Hermione pulled it. A big smile curled her mouth. The chestnut wand lay smoothly in her hand as if it had always belonged there.

Still grinning widely, Hermione hurried down a hallway and rounded a corner. She didn't want to be late for her next class. The silvery ghost of a beautiful woman floated in the next corridor. Hermione couldn't help but stare. The woman's straight hair was incredibly long and reached her waist. Her ankle-length dress flowed like molten silver over her slim body. The ghost's lifeless eyes skimmed over Hermione, no reaction on her fine aristocratic features. Then her gaze dropped from Hermione's face to the wand in her hand. The ghost's eerie eyes were fixed on the wand and suddenly a wave of pure hatred erupted on her beautiful face.

"What is that?" the dead woman yelled, anger twisting her melodious voice. "Where did you get that?"

Hermione stumbled a step away from the irate woman, now holding her wand tighter.

"I- I found it…" she defended.

The ghost didn't seem to listen, her wrath concentrated on the wand in Hermione's hand. The ghost's eyes burned with merciless fury as she scanned the shaky Hermione.

"You  _found_  it?" the woman whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "You miserable little- Despicable!  _Who are you_?"

Hermione took another step back, eyeing the corridor for any escape routes as she hesitantly replied,

"I'm Hermione Rookwood."

"Rookwood?" the infuriated ghost snarled, her hands balled into fists as if she wished to put them around Hermione's neck.

"Rookwood," the woman whispered, now eerily quiet.

Her eyes were again pinned to Hermione's wand. Then, without another word, the dead woman dived through Hermione's body. She gasped as the ghost passed her. It felt like she had been doused in a bucket of ice water. The ghost disappeared through the solid stone wall. Hermione stared at the spot, unsettled.

"Hey, Hermione," a voice called her.

Startled, she whirled around and saw Ron, Dean and Seamus walking towards her, smiling at her. As the boys reached her, Seamus raised his eyebrows in question and commented,

"Are you alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Hermione felt too shaky to appreciate the irony. "I'm fine."

"Okay," said Ron hesitantly. Then he smiled at her. "Do you wanna walk with us to Herbology?"

"Um… yes," whispered Hermione. "Sure."

As she walked with the boys, her heart still raced away in her chest. What had the ghost wanted from her? The woman had been eerily familiar, but Hermione couldn't remember where she had seen her face before. She decidedly shook her head. It probably was nothing. It wasn't the first time people had yelled at her for no reason. Hermione glanced up at Ron.

"I didn't see you at breakfast."

"Yeah." Ron shrugged, grinning at her. "I slept in. Free period."

Dean eyed Hermione suspiciously before he exclaimed, "Why were  _you_  up, Hermione? Don't tell me you take Ancient Runes."

Hermione blinked up at him and said hesitantly, "I do, actually."

Dean grabbed his chest, a dramatic look on his face, as he declared, "The horror. Stuck in Ancient Runes."

"With nothing but a bunch of know-it-alls for company." Ron nodded solemnly.

Then a grin split his face and he wrapped a playful arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"Whyever would you take Ancient Runes?" he questioned. "On a Monday morning, it's the worst that can happen."

Being surrounded by three wizards was a bit intimidating, but now Hermione  _had_  to say something.

"Ancient Runes is a wonderful subject," she informed Ron in quite the bossy tone. "How can you miss out on that and sleep in?"

She reached for her bag and pulled out the notes she had taken from Professor Wenlock's lecture.

"Look, Ron," Hermione said importantly and shoved the parchment under his nose. "Look at these runes. It all fits together. Can't you see what you could do with this knowledge?"

Ron furrowed his brow as he blinked, bleary-eyed, down at Hermione's parchment while she stared at him expectantly. After a while he said slowly,

"No. Makes no sense to me."

Ron handed the parchment back to her. Hermione huffed at his lack of understanding while a big grin appeared on Seamus' face.

"You know, Hermione," he pointed out. "It suddenly turns out that you are a know-it-all yourself."

She narrowed her eyes at his smiling face and said waspishly, "It's not too late. I can talk with Professor Wenlock. I'm sure she'll take you guys in."

Simultaneously the three shook their heads.

"No need for that."

"Don't bother yourself."

†

Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, placed a pot on the work bench in front of his class. Dark green vines grew from the pot. Moving like the arms of an octopus, the plant's vines angrily reached out for the professor.

"Who can tell me what this is?" Beery asked, while trying to avoid the tendrils.

Hermione didn't even have to reflect the question. Her arm immediately shot into the air. Neither a Hufflepuff nor another Gryffindor wanted to answer. Beery smiled at Hermione gratefully.

"Ah, our new student," he said approvingly. "Let's see what you know, Ms Rookwood."

"It's Devil's Snare, professor," Hermione readily answered.

"That is correct," Beery praised. "Five points to Gryffindor."

A blush hit Hermione. Ron, who had up till now doodled on his parchment, leaned closer to her and encouraged,

"Keep going, Hermione. We want to win the House Cup this year." He paused and a teasing grin grew on his face. "By the way, Seamus was right. You  _are_  a nerd."

Hermione tried to suppress a smile and nudged her elbow into his rips. "Am not."

At that moment, Beery asked another question and once again Hermione's hand shot up in the air. Ron's grin widened and he said smugly,

"I rest my case."

"Don't distract her," Dean admonished his friend. Then he chuckled, "She's our only hope to get any points."

After Hermione gained Gryffindor another five points, Beery instructed them to get their pots with Devil's Snare and prune the vines. Hermione rummaged through her bag to get her equipment and slipped into the dragon hide gloves Riddle had given her. Seamus raised his eyebrows as he eyed her gloves.

"Aren't they a bit too large for you?"

Indeed the gloves were a few sizes too big. But as Hermione didn't have her own pair, she supposed they just would have to do.

"Yeah." She shrugged. "They are actually Tom's."

"Riddle's?" Ron asked while he fought with the Devil's Snare.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I kinda… forgot mine at home."

Ron finally got a grip on the tendril and used the clippers to cut off the tip. He reached for the next vine while commenting snidely,

"Riddle lent you something out of the kindness of his heart?" He snorted. "He really needs to watch out or he'll ruin his reputation."

Hermione creased her brow. This was the second time someone had pointed out Riddle's questionable reputation.

"Why do you dislike Tom?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Ron glanced at her searchingly. "That's because he's t-"

He was interrupted as Dean cleared his throat. Ron's eyes shortly snapped to his friend. Then he looked back at Hermione and smiled reassuringly.

"It's because he's in Slytherin. Gryffindors and Slytherins don't like each other that much."

"Oh." Hermione could sense that there was more. "So, is it a problem that he's my-"  _Master?_  "-boyfriend?"

"No. Don't worry." Ron quickly shook his head. "You wouldn't be the first to fa- …er… that is to say… we are really glad to have you in Gryffindor."

"Smooth, Ron," Dean pointed out dryly. "Very smooth."

"Still," Seamus said, grinning at Hermione. "We  _are_  glad to have you."

†

It wasn't much later that Hermione was on her way back from the greenhouses to the castle, a throng of Gryffindors around her. Seamus walked beside her, nursing a cut in his right hand where the Devil's Snare had managed to hit him.

"Should have worn your gloves," Ron commented good-naturedly.

Seamus only glowered at him and grumbled, "I left them in the dorm."

Hermione eyed the angry gash on his hand. "You should put some ointment on that cut." Her servant mode kicked in and she offered readily, "I could fetch it for you."

"Nah, don't worry," said Seamus. "It's just a small cut. Nothing compared to last month as Jimmy Peaks hurled a Bludger at my head during Quidditch training."

"Oh, come on," jeered a Gryffindor girl walking behind them.

Hermione remembered her name to be Demelza Robins. The blonde girl playfully slapped Seamus' arm and said,

"Jimmy didn't do it on purpose.  _You_  flew right into that Bludger."

With that she kicked off a whole discussion about Quidditch tactics. Hermione wasn't really listening but just followed her house mates as they entered the castle via a side entrance. The corridors were crowded with students on their way to the Great Hall for lunch. As she walked through the many hallways, Hermione wondered if she would ever manage to find her way around here. She just wanted to ask Ron if someone had ever tried to draw a map of Hogwarts, as she spotted a group of people standing secluded in a dark corner. She noticed how the other students gave them a wide berth. Now and then nervous looks were thrown their way and the other students whispered in hushed voices. As Hermione almost passed that suspicious group she spotted Riddle among them. Draco was there as well and – Hermione shuddered – Bellatrix Black. She didn't recognize the other three boys but had to admit they all looked rather dark and sinister. Hermione hesitated shortly, but then sauntered over to them.

"Hermione? What are you doing?" Ron's nervous voice drifted after her.

The other Gryffindors eyed her, slightly worried. Hermione smiled at them and gestured for them to go on without her. Then she stepped over to Riddle. He hadn't yet noticed her, immersed in a conversation with a tall black-haired guy. Bellatrix, though, wasn't so oblivious and sneered,

"What do  _you_  want here?"

Hermione felt uncomfortable in the other girl's presence. Even worse, now the others were staring at her, too. She looked at Bellatrix and stuttered,

"I- I wanted to talk with Tom."

Immediately the expression on Bellatrix' pretty face grew dark. Her heavy-lidded eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits and she took a step towards Hermione.

"'Tom'?" Bellatrix hisses angrily. "How dare you call him 'Tom'?"

"Uh-oh," the tall dark-haired wizard snickered. "Bella's on the warpath. Beware."

Bellatrix growled furiously and pulled her wand. Sinister green sparks flew from her wand's tip as she snarled,

"Keep out of this Dolohov. Or you are the next one!"

Dolohov raised his hands in clemency, although the smirk on his face was far from being apologetic. Growling darkly, Bellatrix returned her attention to Hermione. Slowly the witch raised her wand, murderous intent madly glinting in her eyes. Fear instantly mounted up in Hermione as she remembered the last time Bellatrix had cursed her. Before the witch could do any harm, Riddle's calm voice ordered,

"Stop it, Bellatrix."

A look of pure loathing crossed Bellatrix face and she glowered at Hermione. As she turned to Riddle, the furious expression did not drop from her face. Instead Bellatrix' dark eyes glared at Riddle mutinously. Her magic bristled around her, uncontrolled. The wizard made no move to pull his own wand. He just observed Bellatrix, unperturbed, his face schooled into a blank mask. As Riddle didn't react at all, she finally hissed,

"Like I give a fuck!"

Without sparing Hermione another glance Bellatrix stomped down the corridor, her furious magic still raging around her. Dolohov ran a hand through his black hair and commented,

"She's got one nasty temper."

"A little sunshine, to be sure," replied Draco dryly.

Riddle was completely unaffected by the whole incident and instead asked Hermione in his silky voice,

"What did you want from me, Hermione?"

Hermione threw a nervous glance at him and replied, "Er… Nothing really. I guess I better leave you alone."

A smirk pulled at the corners of Riddle's mouth. He reached for her hand before she could escape.

"No need," he said smoothly. "I'll accompany you to the Great Hall."

Hermione shyly peered up at him and nodded. Without another word to his friends Riddle left with Hermione. As he led her through the corridors, Hermione noticed the other students staring at them. Feeling uncomfortable, she grabbed Riddle's hand tighter.

"So?" Riddle said conversationally. "How was your first day so far?"

Hermione looked up at him. He smiled at her, seemingly not at all fazed by the nosy stares of the other students.

"Ancient Runes wasn't so bad after all," she told him. "Turns out I already learned the runes Professor Wenlock wants to cover this semester." Hermione grinned up at Riddle. "Did you know we get points when we do something right?"

Riddle chuckled. "Yes, I know."

"The professor awarded me ten points for Gryffindor," Hermione continued proudly.

Riddle nodded in amusement while he pulled Hermione in the Entrance Hall and towards the Great Hall. The other students still ogled at the pair but Hermione didn't even notice anymore.

"During Herbology I also got some points," she told Riddle cheerfully. "Apparently the points are for some kind of House Cup."

Riddle tugged Hermione into the Great Hall and steered her towards the Gryffindor table.

"I see," he said, a smirk stretching his lips. "So you had a nice day?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically as he stopped directly in front of her house table. Riddle raised his hand and gently cupped her cheek. Then, for every Gryffindor to see, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. Before Riddle bent up he whispered,

"Did you remember to take your potion?"

"Yes," Hermione mumbled while fighting against her suddenly weak knees.

Satisfied, Riddle threw a disdainful look at the Gryffindors sitting at their table before he left Hermione. The moment he was gone, excited whispers broke out and Hermione finally realized that everybody had seen her interaction with Riddle. Ducking her head, she spotted a free seat beside Ron and hurried over to him. Parvati, sitting at Ron's other side, commented,

"Wow. I've actually never seen Riddle showing such public displays of affection."

"You really  _are_  Riddle's girlfriend." Lavender chirped and eyed Hermione nosily.

Another heat wave hit her face and Hermione just nodded. Before Lavender could squeal, a red-headed girl, sitting next to Dean, said,

"My condolences."

"Ginny!" Lavender shrieked, shocked. "How can you say that?"

The petite redhead shrugged nonchalantly. Then she winked at Hermione mischievously.

"Riddle's a creepy bastard, that's why," she placidly explained, provoking another shriek from Lavender.

The redhead's gaze wandered back to Hermione and she threw her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry 'bout that," she said. "But I'm just no fan of Riddle …actually since first year I hate his guts."

The redhead leaned a bit over the table and offered Hermione her hand.

"I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley. Sixth year and sister of that guy." She gestured at Ron.

"And," Dean interjected, proud smile on his face. "My girlfriend."

"Yeah, yeah." Ginny rolled her eyes but grinned.

Hermione shook her hand. "It's nice to m-"

"Don't tell me you're still angry with Riddle," Lavender cut over Hermione.

Immediately Ginny crunched up her pretty face and said crossly, "You bet I am. The bastard cursed me."

Lavender snorted at that, "Get over it. Riddle didn't do it on  _purpose_."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at Lavender, annoyance hovering around her petite frame.

"I  _know_  the git did it on purpose. Just a little longer and his curse would have sucked all my magic from me."

"Come on, Ginny." Lavender waved Ginny's argument away with a lazy hand. "Don't you think you are a bit resentful here?"

Before Ginny could reply, Ron interjected angrily, "How can you even say that? My sister could've died."

Lavender raised her eyebrows disbelievingly at Ron. "Riddle didn't do it on purpose. He even apologized. He was a second year back then. How'd he even be able to cast magic like that? It was an accident."

Both Weasleys and Dean glowered at her darkly, probably deciding which curse  _they_  should throw at the girl. Parvati piped in ominously,

"Well, Riddle  _is_  rather adept with curses. Don't forget that…"

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Once again  _his_  Mudblood was surrounded by those imbeciles. Irritation forcefully burned up in Riddle and already affected his magic. Standing in the corridor in front of the potions classroom, Hermione was surrounded by Gryffindors.  _Male_  Gryffindors, actually. The Weasley redhead stood way too close. He talked animatedly and Hermione had nothing better to do than to encourage him by laughing at his stupid story.

_While ignoring me!_

Riddle's dark magic raged inside him and he wished he could raise his wand and sent a curse at Weasley …and maybe one at the Mudblood. Otherwise she would never learn. Unfortunately the corridor was crowded with people. Riddle angrily curled his hands into fists and went for another course of action. After all, he  _was_  her Master. It didn't take much to violently tug at the bond that chained the Mudblood to him.

A sadistic smile curled Riddle's mouth as he watched Hermione wince, a hand flying half-way to her left forearm. She wisely stopped the movement but now looked up. Her brown eyes locked with Riddle's and he felt satisfied to see them dulled with pain.

†

Hermione felt her Dark Mark still stinging painfully. That and the fierce glare Riddle sent her was enough to understand. Quickly she excused herself and left her house mates to walk over to Riddle. With trepidation she noticed that he stood with a group of Slytherins. Bellatrix and Draco were among them. After their encounter earlier this day, Hermione really didn't want to be anywhere near Bellatrix. Feeling rather uncomfortable Hermione stepped over to Riddle. There was a satisfied smirk on his face as he scanned her.

"Hermione," he greeted smugly.

"Tom."

Hermione stood beside Riddle and shuffled nervously as Bellatrix' heavy-lidded eyes wandered over her. Strangely enough, not even a hint of the previous anger was on Bellatrix' face anymore. After a moment of silently scanning Hermione, the witch threw her a grin. Lazily she leaned over to Hermione and tucked at a strand of her curly hair. Then she said,

"Your hair is very glossy."

Nothing else. Bellatrix cackled, twisted mirth in her eyes, then she turned on the spot and skipped over to a group of Slytherin girls. The black haired guy – Dolohov, Hermione remembered – shrugged his shoulders. Then he just stated,

"Bipolar, that one."

He sent Hermione a dazzling smile and said, "Dolohov, by the way. Antonin Dolohov."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione replied. "I'm Hermione Rookwood."

His smile widened, making him look quite handsome.

"It really is a pleasure," he declared, winking at her attractively. "We've all been dying to finally meet the woman who managed to steal Tom's heart."

Hermione blinked in surprise and stole a glance at Riddle. He didn't react to Dolohov's antics at all. Like so often his face was an unreadable mask. Dolohov smirked as he saw the blush on Hermione's face.

"So, let's see," he said. "You've already met Bellatrix. Now this-" He gestured a brawny guy who eyed Hermione through beady eyes. "-is Gregory Goyle."

Goyle didn't react at all but just vacantly stared down at Hermione. Dolohov ignored him and continued chattily, "It's a pity Evan is not here. He really wanted to meet you. Oh, and of course, this fellow here is Regulus Black."

Hermione's gaze fell on a lanky boy with short brown hair. He was rather small, barely two inches taller than her. He smiled at her shyly and inclined his head. Dolohov chuckled and nudged the last one in the group, Draco.

"I almost forgot you. How  _could_  I?" Dolohov needled, something dark lurking behind his friendly smile.

Draco glared at Dolohov. Hermione tensed as she saw familiar anger burning in his grey eyes. She really didn't want to associate with Draco at all. His stormy grey eyes left Dolohov and came to rest on her. Hermione felt the need to shy away from him. She was even more startled as suddenly a charming smile appeared on Draco's face.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond said, a seductive tinge in his voice.

For a second, Hermione didn't react at all. A sharp stab of Riddle's finger in her side brought her out of her stupor. Hermione forced a smile on her face and looked up at Draco instead of cowering before him.

"It's- it's nice to meet you."

Draco took her hand and placed a light kiss on her knuckles, making chills run down Hermione spine. His grey eyes were uncommonly soft as he smiled at her.

"A pleasure," Draco confirmed silkily. "Hermione."

That smile on his face surely was unnerving. Back in Malfoy manor Draco had never looked at her in such a way. Hermione felt quite insecure in the Slytherin's presence. She didn't even notice how she reached for Riddle and tightly grabbed his hand.

†

"-but don't use too much of the lacewing flies. They cause blathering and, if used in quite the excessive amount, are toxic. Best avoid that by adding only the-"

Riddle again dropped out of Slughorn's lecture. His gaze left the walrus-like professor and travelled to his seat neighbour. Riddle smirked as he found the Mudblood bent over her parchment and scribbling away. He had made sure that Hermione sat on the Slytherin side of the classroom, much to her house mates' chagrin. Especially Weasley threw him angry glares. Riddle sighed in annoyance. He should have punished Hermione for not ending up in Slytherin like he had ordered her. This was troublesome.

"Now who can tell me the difference between a Confusing Concoction and the Befuddlement Draught?" Slughorn's booming voice echoed through the classroom.

Riddle almost groaned at the impossibly easy question. How utterly  _boring_. But as always, no-one of his useless classmates knew the answer. Riddle lazily raised his hand. A stupid smile stretched Slughorn's face, then he said, as expected,

"Ms Rookwood?"

Riddle tensed, surprise hitting him like a brick wall. That was  _not_  expected. Carefully schooling his features he glanced at Hermione. She smiled at the professor politely and recited,

"While the two potions both affect the state of mind, the Confusing Concoction only causes a mild daze while the Befuddlement Draught is more potent. Consuming it results in reckless and even dangerous behaviour."

Riddle couldn't help but stare at his Mudblood. Her eyes glinted and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks as Slughorn kept praising her. Well, he had  _known_  that, for a Mudblood ,she was uncommonly intelligent, Riddle thought as he stiltedly smoothed down his silver-green tie. This was no surprise.

"Let's see," Slughorn said mirthfully, pathetically thrilled that someone other than Riddle had answered his question. "Brewing the Befuddlement Draught, what would happen if one forgot to add the required boomslang skin?"

Okay, Riddle had to admit that was a slightly harder question. Still no problem for him, of course. But he sincerely doubted that anyo-

Riddle narrowed his eyes as, once again, the Mudblood eagerly raised her hand …even before him. He was hit by an irrational rush of anger.

"The boomslang skin's toxins act as a narcotic, lowering the inhibition level," the Mudblood explained. "Without it, the potion wouldn't be strong enough to cause the change in behaviour."

"Exactly right, Ms Rookwood," Slughorn cried happily. "Wonderful. Take another five points."

He clapped his hands together, now beaming at Hermione. Riddle felt like cursing that silly smile off the professor. As if that question had been so difficult to answer.  _Really? Five points?_

†

Hermione felt really happy and relieved. She had been rather afraid of Potions. Of course she had read lots of books and had some theoretical knowledge about potions but she seriously lacked skill in the practical department. Slughorn seemed to like her though and Riddle was her potions partner, so she really didn't need to worry. Hermione smiled widely as she packed away her quill and parchment so they could start brewing the Befuddlement Draught.

"Go, get the ingredients," a cold voice snapped at her.

Hermione tensed and looked up. Riddle glared at her, angry frown on his face. Why was he suddenly so mad?

"Yes, Tom."

Hermione hastily stood to fetch the required ingredients. Riddle's mood hadn't lifted at all as she returned to their table.

"You work on the boomslang skin," he ordered her gruffly.

Hermione nodded at him. Her stomach knotted painfully as Riddle then just ignored her. She reached for a silver knife. Her brow was furrowed with concentration as Hermione tried to cut the skin. This was much trickier than the potion books had suggested and she was having trouble.

"Watch what you are doing," Riddle reprimanded her sharply.

Hermione looked up from her mutilated boomslang skin. Riddle's frosty blue eyes wandered disapprovingly over the silver knife in her hand.

"You are ruining it," he accused.

Hermione bit her lip and cast her eyes down. Her hand clenched nervously around the knife.

"I'm sorry, Mas- Tom," she whispered shakily.

She jumped slightly as he sent her a glare and snarled scathingly, "Just continue your work."

Shakily Hermione resumed cutting the boomslang skin. She could feel Riddle's unforgiving gaze burn into her as she clumsily used the silver knife. She had managed to cut off a rather ragged piece of snakeskin as Riddle hissed, danger lurking in his voice,

"Hermione, are you trying to annoy me?"

"No," she quickly denied. "It's just that I-" She cautiously peered up at his angry face and confessed, "I never had… well… the opportunity to brew any potion before."

Riddle's eyes widened and he arched his eyebrows in surprise. Realization dawned on him as his starkly blue eyes wandered over her.

"This is your first ever potion?"

Hermione nodded, embarrassed. Riddle stared at her. By now the anger had completely left his face and he merely studied her. After a moment he sighed and took the silver knife from her. Then he reached for the boomslang skin. Holding the skin he began to cut off very thin slips.

"See?" Riddle explained patiently. "They all need to be of equal size otherwise their potency will reduce."

Hermione nodded and accepted the knife from him so she could try it. After that potions turned out to be quite interesting.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It had been a long first day, Hermione decided as she followed Riddle to the Heads common room. Classes had been fun and Hermione really liked it in Gryffindor, but she felt incredibly tired. They reached the sixth floor and Riddle sauntered down a deserted corridor. He stopped in front of a statue of a centaur.

"Conexus," Riddle gave the password.

The centaur flexed her legs before she sprang out of the way, revealing the entrance to the Heads' common room. Riddle entered and Hermione quickly scurried after him. A breath of relief left her as the door closed behind her and they were alone. Finally, she didn't need to pretend any longer.

"You are going to stay here until curfew," Riddle informed her curtly. "I'll bring you back to Gryffindor tower where you will go straight to your dorm."

Hermione nodded absently while she eyed the Heads' common room. It was a spacious room. An armchair and a small bookshelf stood in one corner, two flights of stairs lead up to what was probably the Heads' dorms and a large window showed a fantastic view down on the Great Hall and Hogwarts' grounds beyond. A couch and side table stood invitingly right in front of the huge fireplace. The room was quite cosy. It actually looked quite similar to the Gryffindor common room, although the Heads' common room displayed none of the four houses' colour scheme.

Hermione tentatively walked over to the sitting area. Riddle already sat on the couch and apparently went over his notes from today's classes. Hermione didn't sit down beside him. She wasn't sure how to behave now that they were alone. So she stood beside the sofa, bowing her head, and whispered,

"How can I be of service, Master?"

"It's 'Tom'," Riddle corrected dryly without looking up.

"Of course, Tom," she quickly agreed.

Riddle sighed and finally looked up from his essay. His face was blank, indifference mirrored in his eyes as he scanned Hermione. Then he ordered exasperatedly,

"Sit down."

Gladly Hermione obeyed and sank down on the sofa. Between classes and meeting all those new people, she hadn't realised how incredibly exhausting it was to play the role of the Pureblood. It was a relief to be alone with Riddle. Around him she didn't have to act and lie.

Hermione glanced at Riddle. He was still not paying her any mind. Ever so slowly she skidded closer to him. She now sat so close to the wizard that her thigh was pressed against his. Any closer and she would end up in Riddle's lap. Finally he looked at her. A knowing smirk twisted up his mouth as his frosty eyes wandered over her form.

"So, do you already miss Penny?"

Hermione peered up at his penetrating eyes. She hesitated shortly. Hogwarts was intimidating, but did she miss being Penny, servant to the Malfoy family? Quickly Hermione shook her head. The smirk on Riddle's face widened. He raised his arm, wrapped it around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"I don't miss her either," murmured Riddle.

He returned to his notes and went over them while his hand absently stroked through Hermione's hair. Although she probably shouldn't, Hermione enjoyed his warm body beside her. Involuntarily she leaned into Riddle's hold and snuggled against his side, feeling quite secure.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, barely audible.

"Hm?" Riddle arched a curious eyebrow.

Hermione daringly draped an arm around Riddle and pressed herself tighter against him. Peering up at his deep blue eyes, she said softly,

"Thank you for… you know, allowing me to attend school."

An insidious smirk slid on Riddle's face. His eyes slowly crept over her, dark amusement flittering through them.

"You are welcome," Riddle finally said, smugness dripping from his lips. "I guess you owe me now."

"Eh…"

Hermione didn't know what to say. Riddle didn't expect a reply anyway. He leant down to her and confidently pressed his lips over her own. Once again Hermione's doubts were drowned by a pleasant tingle that started in her stomach and quickly spread through her whole body. Riddle's lips on her own felt incredibly good. Hermione knew she shouldn't be enjoying this. His kiss was demanding, brooking no resistance, as he deepened it. Still, Hermione sighed softly as his tongue rubbed against hers dominantly.

As Riddle finally released her, she felt ruffled and unsure of the whole situation. Her heart thundered merrily away in her chest, missing a few beats as she stared up into those starkly blue eyes. The superior smile was back on Riddle's face. He again tugged Hermione into his side and settled back against the couch.

"I forgot to mention," Riddle said smoothly, seemingly unaffected by their previous actions. "I want you to join one of the clubs."

Hermione, still feeling unbalanced, creased her forehead and looked up at him.

"I thought I wasn't allowed to join clubs," she breathed shakily.

He smirked down at her. "This one is an exception."

"Oh. Okay. Which one?"

She studied Riddle's handsome face in suspicion and dearly hoped he wouldn't expect her to join the Quidditch team. Although Ron had tried to convince Hermione that Quidditch was the best game in the world she, frankly, couldn't share his enthusiasm. Quidditch sounded like a sure way to get a broken bone. And Hermione had had enough of that in her life.

"You are going to join DADA," Riddle ordered, smug smile in place.

"DADA?" mumbled Hermione, trying to remember that particular club. Nothing came to mind. "What's that?"

If anything the smirk on Riddle's face widened as he explained, "Duelling And Dark Arts. It's a club open for sixth and seventh years only."

"A duelling club…" Hermione mused. She glanced at Riddle. "You think that's a good idea?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and asked sharply, "You doubt me?"

Quickly Hermione shook her head. "No. It's just that…" She avoided his stormy gaze and whispered, "I don't think I'm good enough. I mean, if it's only open for sixth years and up… technically I'm a first year…"

Riddle snorted disdainfully. "I'm pretty sure you can keep up."

Hermione looked up at him sceptically. "Do you remember when we were in Albania and you allowed me to have my wand for the first time?"

As he nodded, Hermione confessed timidly, "That was actually… I mean- that was the first time I ever duelled with anyone. Joining a duelling club might be too much…"

Riddle sighed and shook his head at her indulgently. "Hermione, believe me when I say all the other students are inapt morons. I should know. I had to spend more than six years of classes with them." Rather patronizingly he continued, "You are going to be perfectly fine in DADA. I'm sure you'll do well."

A small smile blossomed on Hermione's face as she heard those encouraging words. It was a shame that Riddle didn't stop there but continued, threat unmistakably wrapped around his light voice,

"And if not, I'm going to be very angry with you, Hermione."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **The night is darkening round me,**

**The wild winds coldly blow;**

**But a tyrant spell has bound me**

**And I cannot, cannot go.'**

**\- Emily Jane Brontë (*1818 †1848)**


	13. Grow Red With Shame

A few days into her stay at Hogwarts and Hermione was convinced that she would love every class the professors could throw at her. Ancient Runes was brilliant, so was Arithmancy. Potions, although taxing, was incredibly interesting. Hermione couldn't think of anything better than to go to Charms, Astronomy, Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures. She truly loved each and every one of her classes.

…or so she had thought before today. A thick frown wrinkled her forehead as Hermione sat in the History of Magic classroom. As it was a Slytherin-Gryffindor class Riddle sat on the chair right beside her. Hermione's gaze left her seat neighbour and wandered back to the professor. Her red hair was cut short and ruffled stylishly. Not very tall, her skin almost as white as snow, Professor Alecto Carrow stood before her class, imperiously scanning her students. A half smile tugged at her thin lips as she continued to lecture,

"-but let us leave behind those dark times and continue with modern history." The smile widened and she concluded, "Gellert Grindelwald."

Carrow elegantly sat on the teacher's desk, her legs crossed gracefully, and scanned her students expectantly,

"Now who can tell me: What is Grindelwald's most important achievement?"

Many students raised their hands and Carrow nodded at a Slytherin. "Yes, Mr Flint?"

The boy with coarse black hair replied proudly, "He won the Civil War."

Carrow inclined her head and said, "Surely a great feat. Grindelwald revolted against an unjust government and managed to overthrow it. Can you also tell me when this war took place, Mr Flint?"

"1941 till '45," Flint replied easily.

"Correct," said Carrow. "He won the war against the Ministry of Magic and took over. A very important victory for Grindelwald and for us, but not his greatest achievement." She raised her eyebrows. "Anyone else? Mr Finnigan?"

Seamus scratched his head before he replied, "He beat Albus Dumbledore in a duel?"

"Yes, yes, Dumbledore." Carrow giggled shrilly. "Many foolishly considered that man to be the most powerful wizard of his time. In reality, Dumbledore was a traitor and a criminal. Unprovoked, he attacked Grindelwald. Of course, Dumbledore was no match for a wizard like Grindelwald and got himself killed."

Carrow glanced at Seamus and shook her head "An important moment in Grindelwald's life. But not the answer I am searching for. Anyone else?"

No-one raised a hand. Neither did Hermione. She glanced at Riddle. For once he didn't seem to be interested in answering either.

"Fine then. I'll tell you," Carrow smiled condescendingly. "Grindelwald's greatest achievement was the improvement of the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy."

"What do you mean, professor?" asked a Slytherin girl.

Carrow smiled at the girl indulgently. It made Hermione's skin crawl unpleasantly.

"Before Grindelwald took over, the Ministry of Magic was disgustingly weak," the professor said. "The Statute of Wizarding Secrecy merely stated that our world should be hidden from Muggle eyes. It didn't forbid wizards to wander into the Muggle world and freely mingle with them as long as they hid their wizarding origin."

Carrow sneered the last part in disgust. She got up and started to pace to and fro in front of the class, eyeing them sternly.

"Grindelwald stopped this grotesque perversity," the professor said fervently. "He sealed our world off. So that today no Muggle-influences can reach our world anymore. Every witch and wizard is now protected from having to deal with Muggle abnormalities."

Hermione glanced at the other students. A lot of them nodded in agreement with Carrow. By no means only Slytherins, many Gryffindors accepted Carrow's opinion as well. Hermione stared down at her empty parchment and swallowed thickly.

"What do you think would have happened if we continued to mingle with Muggles?" Carrow asked but didn't wait for any answers. "I can tell you that: Muggles would soon overrun us. They would sneak into our world and slowly but surely our wizard blood would get thinner and thinner until nothing is left. We would all turn into Muggles."

A shudder went through the class that left Hermione nauseous. Carrow, seemingly pleased with her audience, continued,

"That's why we should be grateful that Gellert Grindelwald fought for us. He won the war for  _us_. To save our world from being destroyed by filthy Muggles."

A sharp smile appeared on Carrow's mouth. She strode through the classroom and came to stand in front of a table where Lavender and Parvati sat. The girls had been giggling and clearly hadn't paid much attention. Hermione shuddered as she saw the cruel smile on Carrow's face.

"Ms Brown," the professor said quietly.

Lavender looked up at Carrow, trying but failing to look innocent.

"You don't think Grindelwald's work is worth your time?" the teacher asked softly, dangerously.

Lavender whimpered softly and quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry, professor."

Carrow merely snickered coldly, "Do you know what would have happened if Grindelwald hadn't fought for you?"

Lavender swallowed and slowly shook her head.

"You-" Carrow leaned down to the girl. "-would have been married off to a  _Muggle_  man."

Lavender's eyes widened fearfully as if she had been threatened with a marriage to a Dementor.

"That is right," Carrow said forcefully, now addressing the whole class. "If Grindelwald hadn't stepped in, the government would have continued to marry witches to Muggles. They would have let those  _filthy_   _animals_  defile our mothers, our sisters and daughters,  _ourselves_. Witches would have been forced to give birth to abominations. Half-bloods and Mudbloods would have poisoned our magical blood. They would have lived amongst us as if they were equals. In reality, they would have weakened us from the inside. And soon, our world – we all – would have perished."

Carrow's cold eyes landed on a shaken Lavender and hissed, "I expect a little more respect and gratitude towards Grindelwald."

Quickly Lavender nodded her head. Hermione watched to whole thing and felt sick.  _'Filthy animals'?_  Her eyes travelled over Lavender. The girl still seemed to be shell-shocked by Carrow's speech.

†

Hermione's next class was loads better than History. Transfiguration was taught by her head of house, Professor McGonagall. Although the woman was quite sinister looking, Hermione liked her a lot. Her class was incredibly interesting. Sadly it couldn't completely distract Hermione from the previous class. She felt dejected as Carrow's cold words kept spinning through her head. ' _abominations…_   _filthy animals_ …'

Was that was she was? An abomination? Less talented, less powerful and less intelligent… that was what people had yelled at Hermione so often, she had started to believe it. Wasn't it the natural order of things that she should be a servant and the Purebloods were her masters?

So Hermione had thought, but then she had met Riddle. He had allowed her to keep her wand, he had taught her spells and he had taken her with him to Hogwarts. Now Hermione lived in the castle and attended classes. Despite being a Mudblood, Hermione wasn't any slower than her pure-blooded peers. In fact, McGonagall had just awarded her five points for answering a question correctly.

' _Grindelwald's greatest achievement'…_  Hermione certainly didn't feel any gratitude towards the man. She was startled from her thoughts as someone poked her in the side.

"Stop daydreaming."

Hermione turned her head and looked up into deep blue eyes. Riddle smirked at her and scoffed,

"What's wrong,  _little Hermione_? Can't transfigure the bird?"

Hermione bristled at his words and Riddle's smirk only widened. She angrily snatched her wand and told him bossily,

"Just you watch."

She jabbed her wand sharply at her Transfiguration textbook and bent her magic into the required spell. The book jumped once. Then it changed form until a magpie merrily hopped around on the table. Smugly Hermione smiled up at Riddle. He merely returned the smile and waved his own wand. Not much later a tiny little winter wren appeared from his textbook. The small bird saw the magpie and quickly fluttered from the table up to Riddle's shoulder. Hermione eyed the bird in annoyance before she rebuked Riddle,

"We were supposed to transfigure it into a  _magpie_. Didn't you hear?"

Riddle merely shrugged his shoulders, causing the little wren to chirp disapprovingly. Hermione huffed at his disregard of McGonagall's instructions. In the meantime, said professor had walked up to their table and watched Hermione's magpie which greedily tucked at the silver fastening of Riddle's inkwell.

"Very good, Ms Rookwood," McGonagall praised. "Five points for Gryffindor."

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione smilingly.

McGonagall's stern gaze wandered from Hermione's magpie to the winter wren lazily sitting on Riddle's shoulder. The professor arched a thin eyebrow and said,

"Interesting choice, Mr Riddle. Good work getting around the size differences. Ten points for Slytherin."

Riddle threw a charming smile at McGonagall and said modestly, "I didn't do much. You gave us all the necessary spells in your lecture, Professor."

McGonagall left their table and Hermione's eyes narrowed angrily at Riddle as he smiled at her arrogantly. Huffing in annoyance, she waved her wand over her magpie and transfigured it back into her textbook, while muttering under her breath,

"Pff, ten points for  _Slytherin_. For what?  _Not_  following the rules?"

As Riddle heard her grumbling the haughty smile on his face only widened. Hermione threw him another glare. Then her gaze slipped to the tiny bird on his shoulder. It had begun to groom its feathers and looked adorable. Riddle waved his wand over the small bird, wanting to un-transfigure it.

"Wait. Give it to me. I want to hold it."

Smiling sheepishly Hermione held out a hand. Riddle rolled his eyes at her but complied. Hermione laughed as the wren hopped around on her hand, being ridiculously cute. In the meantime, McGonagall had concluded the lesson and Riddle started to pack away his things.

"Give me my textbook," he ordered Hermione.

Reluctantly she brandished her wand and turned the little bird back into the book. Riddle merely raised an eyebrow and commented,

"Do you always use non-verbal spells?"

"Er..." Hermione followed him out of the classroom. "Yes."

She turned to make sure no-one listened in to their conversation before she whispered bashfully,

"In Malfoy manor I always recited spells when I had to do my chores. Of course, I did it silently. Now I have problems with verbal spells." She glanced at Riddle worriedly. "Do you think that's bad?"

Riddle snickered softly. "No, Hermione. I doubt any of the professors is going to mind."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione liked the Malfoys' library but Hogwarts' library, she loved. To pieces. Big grin in place she scanned the rows and rows of books only waiting to be read. She may spend the rest of her life here and would never get bored. Riddle, who sat opposite from Hermione at the library table, caught her staring at the books with a stupid smile on her face.

"Are you already finished with your work?" he scolded.

Hermione's gaze snapped to him. "No, Tom."

Hastily she returned to her Potions essay. For a few minutes she worked in silence then she glanced at Riddle. He was writing something down in that elegant script of his. Hermione pursed her lips as she watched him. Then she cajoled,

" _To-om?_ "

Riddle looked up and raised a suspicious eyebrow. Hermione tried very hard to put on her best puppy-dog face before she mumbled softly,

"Er… there's this  _party_  next Friday."

"A party?" He furrowed his brow at her.

Hermione shifted nervously on her chair but wanted to pull through with it now.

"Yes. It's a Gryffindor party," she explained quickly. "And everybody is going."

"Is that so?" Riddle said in his silky unreadable voice.

He scanned her attentively, his piercing eyes boring into Hermione. Still he hadn't yet snapped at her, so she asked,

"Now that I'm a Gryffindor, I wondered… if I could go?  _Please?_ "

Riddle just continued to stare at her and Hermione's nervousness spiralled up. Finally he opened his mouth and asked in a quiet voice,

"And where is that mysterious party going to take place?"

She inhaled deeply before she answered, "By the Black Lake."

"Hm," made Riddle and asked colourlessly, "When does it start?"

"Right after dinner."

His face was completely unreadable but he hadn't immediately refused to let her go. Hermione took that as a good sign. Riddle's fingers thrummed against the desktop. He seemed to at least contemplate the request. That was more than Hermione had expected.

"Very well, Hermione," Riddle finally said. "You may go."

Hermione's heart skipped a few beats in joy as she heard it and a smile broke out on her face.

"Thank you, Tom," she said, voice laced with happiness.

"We don't want you to stick out in any way," Riddle replied dryly. "Staying away from a social event like this might get people starting to wonder."

"Of course."

Riddle's frosty eyes shot at her and he said sternly, "Let's establish a few ground rules, though."

Hermione nodded obediently.

"I don't want you to drink any alcohol," Riddle ordered sharply. "I know how those Gryffindor parties go and you will not participate in any form of drinking."

"Yes, Tom," she quickly agreed.

"I also know how lax Gryffindors are concerning rules," he continued, dangerous tint in his voice. "You are a seventh year, curfew is at eleven o'clock. I want you to be back by that time. If you are not, Hermione, I'll come down to the lake and fetch you myself. You certainly don't want that to happen."

Hermione again nodded. Then she hesitated before she said, "Um. The party is rather  _unofficial_. Just Gryffindors know about it. So…" She threw an ingratiating smile at Riddle. "It would be really great if you didn't mention it to anyone. Especially any professor."

Riddle glared at her irately. Hermione pretended not to notice and returned to her essay.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was already Thursday that Riddle stood in the DADA trainings hall. The first week of classes was almost over and he was quite content. So far, his little Mudblood had done really well in classes.  _Annoyingly well_ , Riddle admitted with a smirk. Seemingly, Hermione was a know-it-all but that was still better than her failing her classes. That would make people suspicious.

Riddle dropped out of the teacher's lecture, explaining which curse they were learning today. He sneered inwardly as his gaze wandered over the other students. Most of them would be lucky to be able to produce a simple Stupefy. It was pathetic. Riddle's gaze stopped as it met with a certain curly haired girl. Hermione stood at the back of the crowd, seemingly trying to look inconspicuous. Her head was slightly bent, hiding her face behind strands of her curly hair. Riddle's brow furrowed as he scrutinized Hermione. Strangely enough, he didn't like her display of timidness. A dark shadow crossed Riddle's face as he glowered at the red-headed boy who stood right beside Hermione. Ron Weasley was a pathetic wizard. Still he dared to get closer and closer to Hermione.

"Tom?"

"Hm?" Riddle turned to Malfoy.

The blond smirked at him, looking annoyingly smug, and drawled, "I found out about what you asked me yesterday."

"Yes?" Riddle said curtly.

Malfoy's smirk widened and he puffed up. "I asked father. He replied today. You were right. Obviously there's a soiree planned in a few weeks. Down in Cornwall. A lot of high-ranking Ministry officials will attend. Maybe even the Minister himself."

"I see," Riddle hummed.

"Some old aristocrat is the host. Her name's Smith." Malfoy ran a hand through his blond hair. "I forgot her first name. Something like Barbara."

"Hepzibah Smith?" Riddle suggested quietly.

Malfoy nodded. "Yeah. That's the one."

A smirk slid on Riddle's face. His steely eyes left Malfoy and travelled back to the Mudblood. The girl was still hiding behind her classmates. He really needed to find out if Hermione was up for her task, Riddle decided, coldly amused. Without looking at Malfoy, he asked,

"So, when exactly is that soiree going to take place?"

†

The DADA teacher was odd, Hermione decided. She brandished her wand and shot a Blasting Curse at one of the wooden trainings dummies. The dummy was forcefully thrown against the stonewall. Ginny, who had the dummy right beside Hermione's, grinned at her and gave her a thumbs-up before she waved her own wand.

"Deleo!" Ginny cried.

Hermione could see her wand movements were a bit off. Surely enough Ginny's spell missed her dummy and detonated into the wall. The red-head shrugged her shoulders and grinned lopsidedly at Hermione. Then she tried again. Hermione smiled as this time Ginny hit her dummy.

Hermione's gaze left Ginny and wandered over to the teacher who walked through the room appraising his students' work. The man was rather tall and quite muscular. He actually didn't look at all like a professor. Instead of the common wizard's robes, he wore a black t-shirt and black combat trousers together with heavy boots. His wand was stowed away in a holster at his belt. His light brown hair was tied together at the back of the man's head to keep it out of his face. Inconspicuously, Hermione eyed his face. His skin was tanned as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. His dark skin colour made the white scar stand out even more. It ran from his forehead over his left eye and down the whole length of his face. Hermione wondered what had caused that huge scar. Most distinct on his face, thought, were the eyes. They were an unnatural yellow colour, giving the man an animalistic look. Hermione stiffened as suddenly those sharp yellow eyes snapped to her.

"No slacking off, Rookwood," the man barked at her in a raspy voice.

Hermione ducked her head. "Sorry, Professor Lupin."

He threw her another stern look before he inspected the other students' work. For the rest of the lesson Hermione tried not to stand out in any way. She could see some of the students struggling with the Blasting Curse and nearly all of them spoke the incantation out loud. Hermione hoped that Riddle had been right and no-one would mind that she was bad with verbal spells.

Hermione breathed out in relief as, after some time, Lupin stopped the training. Without being ordered to, the students gathered around a duelling platform, which stood in the middle of the room. Lupin stood on the platform and menacingly eyed his students. A feral grin hung from his lips as he pronounced,

"Time's almost up. You know what that means."

"Duelling!" an enthusiastic voice suggested.

"Exactly so," acquiesced Lupin. "Any volunteers?"

A lot of hands shot in the air. Riddle's as well. Hermione held herself back. She really didn't want to duel in front of everyone. Lupin's steely gaze came to rest on Riddle and he raised his eyebrows. Obviously it wasn't common for Riddle to volunteer.

"Fine," Lupin said. "Riddle, get up here."

With serpentine grace, Riddle stepped on the duelling platform.

"Uh-oh," Hermione heard Seamus beside her mumbling. "Since when does  _he_  stoop so low as to duel with us common folk?"

Meanwhile, Lupin scanned Riddle and asked curtly, "Who's going to be your opponent?"

A faint smirk graced Riddle's face as he replied, "Ms Rookwood."

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard it. It wasn't that she was really surprised, but she had hoped Riddle would spare her. Lupin's sharp eyes snapped to her and he contemplated her doubtingly.

"Rookwood, hm?" Lupin pondered. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir," Riddle replied smugly.

Lupin merely shrugged and ordered, "Rookwood, come up here."

Slowly Hermione made her way to the duelling platform. The other students observed her, curiously, pityingly. Ginny patted her shoulder encouragingly, grim expression on her face.

"Do you accept the duel?" Lupin asked as Hermione stepped on the platform.

Hermione opened her mouth, but the professor cut over her, "Be aware that we have no special treatment for girls here, neither do we coddle rookies."

His eerily yellow eyes bored into her and he growled, "If you fight, you fight."

That was not really encouraging. Still Hermione whispered diffidently, "I accept."

In face of her timid behaviour, Lupin cocked an eyebrow, grotesquely wrinkling the scar that ran over his left eye. He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly washing his hands of it. Then Lupin glanced at Riddle and reminded sternly,

"No excessive violence and no lethal curses."

He agilely jumped off the duelling platform while barking, "Now, begin!"

Hermione barely had the time to pull her wand as Riddle already slashed his wand through the air. A dangerously crackling curse sizzled Hermione's way. Surprised by the attack, she had to dodge the spell and awkwardly flung herself to the side. Her shoulder cried in protest as Hermione landed hard on it. Riddle didn't give her any time to recover but attacked again. Hermione rolled over and the dark curse impacted with the floor, leaving a smoking black spot.

Shakily she stood up and instantly had to again dodge a curse. Tightly her fingers grabbed her wand but she had yet to fire something back at Riddle. Last time she had duelled him, they had been alone. Hermione just couldn't tune out the many eyes that followed this duel.

†

"That's going to end badly for her," Dolohov remarked indifferently.

Rosier shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, it's Riddle. No-one can beat him."

Regulus didn't participate in that conversation but silently watched as Riddle sent another curse at the poor girl. She was already lying on the floor and only managed to roll out of the curse's way. Regulus flinched as she was very nearly hit. He could see the girl trembling slightly as she looked at Riddle, anxiety in her eyes. Regulus felt sympathy for her. Riddle was a frightening opponent. Luckily he couldn't use any of his crueller curses during DADA in front of a teacher. For that Regulus was grateful.

"Why's he taking so long?" Malfoy asked languidly as Riddle threw another curse at the helpless girl.

Dolohov, standing right next to Regulus, shrugged. "Maybe that's Riddle's idea of foreplay."

Bellatrix cackled evilly. She stepped closer to Dolohov and snaked an arm around his waist while her other hand played with his tie.

"Mm, Antonin," she whispered seductively. "How about I show you what foreplay  _really_  is?"

Dolohov cocked an eyebrow at the witch. She fluttered her thick eyelashes up at him, a destructive smirk on her pretty face. Regulus averted his eyes. He knew Dolohov was sorely tempted by Bellatrix' offer but was also afraid to accept. The witch was dangerous and slightly insane too. A rather unhealthy mixture. Once again Regulus cursed his inbred family.  _The Noble House of Black._  He very nearly rolled his eyes. Surreptitiously he glanced at his cousin. The only authority Bellatrix really accepted was Riddle and even he had problems keeping her in line.

Regulus ignored the other Slytherins and re-focused on the duel. There was a sadistic smirk on Riddle's face that made unpleasant chills darting down Regulus' spine. The dark wizard flicked his wand and sent a curse at Rookwood. Regulus breathed out in relief as it was only a simple Vanishing Spell. The spell dashed through the air, obviously aiming for Rookwood's left arm. The girl managed to step out of the way, but the spell still grazed her left arm slightly. The cuff of Rookwood's black robe sizzled and vanished. Nothing a few tailoring spells couldn't fix, though. Still, a look of absolute horror crossed Rookwood's face as she stared down at her half-exposed left forearm.

"What's he doing?" Bellatrix grumbled, clearly bored by the one-sided duel.

Regulus furrowed his brow. This really was a strange duel. Riddle was way out of Rookwood's league. Why didn't he end it? Instead he threw simple Vanishing Spells at the girl. Regulus watched in trepidation as Rookwood pressed her left arm protectively against her chest and stared at Riddle, true fear in her eyes. A nasty smirk on his face, Riddle scanned her mockingly. Regulus was disgusted by the duel. Riddle just toyed with an obviously weaker opponent. Not that Regulus was surprised. Riddle was a sadistic bastard.

†

_Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!_

A voice screamed in Hermione's head as she stared at her destroyed uniform sleeve. A little bit more and everybody would have a clear view of her Dark Mark. Hermione glanced at Riddle and found a mocking sneer on his face. What was he doing? Did he want her to end up  _killed_? Seeing Hermione's panic, a derisive smirk twisted Riddle's face.

Hermione gritted her teeth as she felt white hot anger building up in her. All thoughts about the other students watching left her and she just glared at Riddle's mocking smirk.

_The bastard!_

With a newfound resolve, Hermione slashed her wand sharply through the air and formed her incensed magic into a curse. A sickle of light erupted from her wand. It crackled dangerously as it rushed towards Riddle. He erected a shield around himself. Hermione's curse crashed violently into the shield. It held, but the force behind the attack was strong enough to hurl Riddle away. He brutally slammed into the floor. Remotely Hermione heard surprised gasps coming from the audience.

"Ha, serves you right," she hotly told Riddle's crumbled form.

He got back to his feet and looked at her. Hermione was mildly surprised to not find an angry snarl on his face. Instead, he smirked at her, showing his teeth.

"No gloating," he told her, dark amusement hidden in his voice. "We are not finished yet."

With that, he brandished his wand. This time, Hermione was prepared. She quickly raised her wand and drew a wide circle in the air in front of her.

_Clipei!_

As she completed the circle a thick green barrier appeared out of thin air. Riddle's curse slammed into the round shield. The shield absorbed the attack's power until nothing was left, then it shattered like glass. Hermione didn't wait for another attack. She raised her wand over her head and brought it down in a diagonal movement. Instantly a Cutting Hex detached itself from the wand's tip and rushed towards Riddle. Hermione didn't stop there but repeated the movement a few times so that a succession of hexes dashed towards Riddle. He erected a strong shield with a flick of his wand. Hermione's first Cutting Hex crashed into his shield and was easily stopped. But as more and more hexes pelted down on it, Riddle's shield flickered dangerously. Satisfied, Hermione watched the annoying grin finally melt from his face. Her last Cutting Hex thundered into his weakened shield and cut through. Unhindered, it dashed towards Riddle. He barely had the time to jump out of the way. Hermione's Cutting Hex crashed into the ground and left behind a deep gash in the wooden floor, the edges sizzling angrily.

Hermione knew it was wrong, but she felt a little bit pleased as she saw a cut in Riddle's leg right above his knee. Red blood trickled from the cut. By now the mocking countenance had left Riddle completely. All playfulness gone, a dark glint glistened in his frosty eyes as stared at the slash in his leg. Slowly he raised his head and his cold gaze landed on her. Hermione could feel Riddle's angry magic in the air gaining in power. It now furiously stormed around the wizard while he glared at her darkly. It made chills darting down Hermione's spine and she nervously grabbed her wand tighter.

It was then that Hermione remembered a curse, she found in an old book in the Malfoys' library. Of course, she had never tried it. Glancing at Riddle, Hermione saw that he started to wave his wand, intending to attack her. Quickly she reacted. Abruptly, Hermione spread her arms to the sides, pushing her magic into them. Then she moved both arms in front of her and grabbed her wand with two hands, pointing it at Riddle.

_Fulmen!_

Channelled through the wand, Hermione was able to focus her magic. She flinched as the curse tugged drastically at her reserves. A blindingly bright flash of light left her wand's tip. It cut through the air like a lightning bolt, followed by the associated thunder.

In the blink of an eye, it reached Riddle. The wizard hastily aborted his own attack to raise a shield. A thick translucent wall formed itself in front of Riddle just a second before Hermione's curse thundered into that defence. It held. Riddle had his left hand raised, palm pointing to the barrier to maintain the magic. Hermione narrowed her eyes and her fingers flexed around her wand as she pushed more magic behind her attack. Under Hermione onslaught, cracks appeared in Riddle's defence. His eyes widened in surprise and he stared at Hermione, disbelief barely hidden on his face.

A small crack appeared in his barrier. Parts of Hermione's curse passed and angrily wrenched at Riddle, forcing him a step back. Riddle bared his teeth in a snarl. His left hand was still raised to maintain the protective wall but he now slightly flicked his wrist, changing his hand's position. His shield rotated around itself and slammed sideways into Hermione's attack. The lightning bolt was not stopped but its direction was diverted. It missed Riddle and instead slammed into the stone wall on the other end of the duelling room. The stone cracked and a crater was ripped into the thick wall.

At the same time, Riddle raised his right arm and waved his wand at Hermione. She was too slow to protect herself in any way. Hermione gasped in pain as a curse crashed into her side, knocking the air from her lungs. She was violently thrown to the ground and cried out in pain as her elbow was painfully dragged over the floor, leaving an abrasive burn. Hermione came to rest, lying crumbled on the floor and holding her painful elbow.

She ignored the pain but quickly sprang to her feet. Riddle again brandished his wand gracefully. A thick iron chain sprang forth from the tip of his wand. It rushed through the air, directly towards Hermione. Quickly she whirled her own wand.

 _Sphera!_  Hermione cried in her head. A greyish shield formed itself around her. Like a bubble it completely surrounded Hermione. The iron chain reached her and immediately wrapped around the grey shield. Hermione was surprised as she could feel no magic radiating from the chain. It didn't challenge her shield at all. The heavy chain clanked rustily as it coiled itself over Hermione's entire shield. Still, it was quite easy to hold it off.

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion about Riddle's weak attack and glanced at him through the chain links. He was staring back at her. The malice stealthily lingering in his gaze didn't manage to reassure her at all. Then Riddle again raised his wand. This time his wand movement was incredibly complicated and Hermione didn't recognize it at all.

"Hephaistos," he whispered the spell softly.

Hermione gasped as suddenly she felt the chain charging up with magic. First slow but then faster and faster, the iron chain glowed with thick magic. As a result the chain – now strengthened – tightened threateningly around the bubble shield. Hermione had to direct more of her magic into the shield. She groaned softly as yet again the chain constricted around her defensive shield. As if exposed to a powerful heat source, the iron started to glow in a bright red light. Beads of sweat appeared on Hermione's forehead as the air around her began to heat up. Mercilessly the chain burned and melted into her shield. Already Hermione's bubble shield lost its round form and was deformed where the chain's coils compressed it. While Hermione desperately tried to maintain her shield, she could glimpse Riddle and the cruel satisfaction on his face.

As her shield began to collapse Hermione summoned as much of her magic as she could. Determined, she waved her wand at the chain. Only a small gash appeared in the chain and the destroyed chain links rapidly melted together again. Hermione didn't hesitate. She flung herself through the small opening, burning herself where she touched the white hot iron.

Hermione cried out as she impacted painfully with the floor. All breath left her and she lay on the floor, dizzy. Then she felt her wand shooting out of her hand and knew Riddle had sent a disarming spell at her. Her head was spinning as she rolled over and pushed herself up. Crouched on the floor, she looked up and nearly snarled at the sight that greeted her. Insidious smile in place, Riddle casually twirled  _her own_  wand through his fingers. Fury swelled up in Hermione as she saw the scorn in the wizard's blue eyes.

"Oh, dear." Riddle exclaimed. Hermione gritted her teeth angrily as she heard the mock concern. "I hope I didn't hurt you there."

The polite worry Riddle displayed was a travesty. Hermione could clearly see the derisive smirk underneath his façade. Anger boiled up in her. Seeing her ire, Riddle winked at her, his scorn hitting Hermione hard.

The duel was over. Hermione had been disarmed. But she was unable to stop now. White hot fury rushed through her veins and she couldn't stand that smug expression on Riddle's face. In one fluid motion, she pushed herself from the floor and raced towards Riddle. He clearly wasn't expecting her attack and had no time to react. Hermione jumped and tackled him. Although she was lighter than Riddle, she had the moment of surprise on her side. He was flung to the ground with Hermione on top of him. A soft gasp of pain escaped him as the back of his head bumped into the floor. Hermione, for one, didn't stop to see if he was alright. She already reached for her wand which was still in his hand. Dizzily, Riddle struggled beneath her, moving her wand out of her reach. Hermione quickly latched onto his left arm and tried to pry his fingers from her chestnut wand. Riddle only gripped it tighter and now raised his other arm, aiming his own wand at her. Seeing this, Hermione clutched his left forearm with both hands. Then she bit down hard on Riddle's hand, drawing blood. He cried out in pain. His grip slackened and Hermione's wand fell from his fingers.

With an angry snarl, Riddle violently pushed Hermione from him. His now profusely bleeding hand closed around her neck, squeezing painfully. Then he brutally twirled her around, so that now Hermione was lying on the floor with Riddle looming over her. His hand never released its painful grip on her neck as he pinned her down. From lack of oxygen black dots already danced in her vision as Hermione glared up at him. The wrath of hell maliciously raged in Riddle's eyes as he stared down at her. The hand that was not chocking the life out of her pointed his wand right into her face. Although barely able to breathe, Hermione sent a grim smile up at Riddle. Then she raised her hand and bored her own wand firmly into his stomach. She could see his eyes widen slightly as he realized the compromising position he was in. His fingers angrily tightened around her neck, as a result Hermione cruelly jabbed her wand into his stomach. Riddle furiously bared his teeth and Hermione merely smirked at him. It seemed they had hit an impasse.

Before they both decided to curse the other, a deep voice barked out, "Enough!"

For a second, neither of them moved. Then slowly reality seeped back to them. Riddle reluctantly released the death grip he had on her neck. Hermione gasped in a breath of air and slowly removed her wand from him. Riddle climbed from her and got up from the floor. All the while, he kept aiming his wand at her. Hermione mimicked his actions and shakily stood up, never releasing the tight grip on her wand. No emotion was on Riddle's face as he looked at her. Only his deep blue eyes were glowing wildly, dangerously. Hermione never let him out of her line of view. Through the corners of her eyes she saw Lupin hopping on the duelling platform.

Seething hot, Hermione remembered that they were actually not alone. Nervousness rushed back to her and she turned her head. The other students still stood around the platform, now in stunned silence. All of them eyed her with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Hermione lowered her head, feeling painfully exposed. In the meantime, Lupin strode over to her and Riddle. Cautiously, Hermione peered up at the man. He scanned her through his strange yellow eyes. After a moment, he decided in his rough voice,

"Good duel."

He didn't say anything to Riddle. Lupin turned to the crowd of students and addressed them,

"I hope you all learned something from this duel."

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "In a real fight, there are no rules. You only win when your opponent is down."

A murmur went through the crowd as they wondered what exactly Lupin meant with 'being down'. The man's fierce grin widened, then he barked,

"Class dismissed!"

Hermione didn't dare to throw another glance at Riddle. Pocketing her wand, she quickly left the duelling platform. She spotted her house mates and stepped over to them. Ron's eyes were comically large as he stared at her. Hermione shuffled uncomfortably. Dean and Seamus had pretty much the same expression pasted on their faces. It was Ginny, blinking at Hermione in amazement, who spoke first.

"Hermione," she whispered. "That… that…" Ginny stepped closer and suddenly a smile split her face. "That was _awesome_!"

Hermione furrowed her brow, confused. "Really?"

"Yes," exclaimed Ginny excitedly. "I've never seen Riddle getting  _battered_  like that."

Finally the other Gryffindors were ripped from their stupor and grinned at Hermione. Ron clapped Hermione's back and chortled,

"It was brilliant."

"Didn't know you had it in you." Grinned Dean.

Hermione intentionally avoided it to look over to the Slytherins as she left the trainings room together with her friends. Seamus was laughing,

"Gods, you should have seen Riddle's face as you suddenly jumped him."

Hermione cast down her head, embarrassed. She couldn't go and attack her  _master_  like that. Nausea made her head swirl as she remembered how she had bit Riddle. Merlin!

 _Are you stupid?_ a nasty voice in her mind hissed at her. The next time she was alone with Riddle, she would be lucky if he didn't crucio her into insanity. Hermione was feeling shaky on her legs as she walked into the Great Hall. Glumly she realized that after dinner she would have to go to the Heads' common room and face Riddle.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" Ginny's voice drifted through Hermione's anxiety.

"Well… ehm…" she stuttered. Then she remembered her fake background story and said, "My father was an Unspeakable. He taught me."

Ginny nodded, seemingly buying the lie.

"Lucky you," the redhead said. "My father only ever taught me how to use a telephone." She paused before adding suspiciously, "And I think he did it wrong."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Telephone?"

That was a Muggle invention. With the strict separation from the Muggle world, wizards were not allowed to make contact with Muggle items. Seeing the frown on Hermione's face, Ginny quickly explained,

"My Dad works for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."

"Aw, Ginny. Don't bore her." Ron intervened.

He gently pushed Hermione down on her seat at Gryffindor table while he continued,

"Seriously, though. I don't think I've ever seen someone duel like that. Finally that stuck up snake got competition."

"Erm…" Hermione stuttered.

Now that they sat in the Great Hall, she could see the other students scanning her curiously. A blush hit Hermione and she lowered her head. If only she hadn't duelled against Riddle. Obviously Ginny had seen the nosy stares as well and noticed the effect they had on Hermione. She cleared her throat pointedly before she changed the topic,

"So what did you think of Lupin?"

Hermione glanced at Ginny's smiling face.

"He's…" she said hesitantly. "I don't know… he's kinda…"

"Scary?" offered Ron, grinning broadly.

Hermione's own lips curved into a smile and she nodded.

"It's no wonder," Seamus supplied. "Lupin's a werewolf."

"What?" gasped Hermione, her eyes large.

Seamus nodded importantly. Seeing her shocked face, he chuckled, "Yup, he's a werewolf."

Hermione blinked at him and breathed weakly, "I- I didn't know they were teaching."

"They don't," said Ron, stuffing mashed potato into his mouth. "Lupin's an exception."

"And we're damn lucky he is," expressed Seamus, angling for a dish with lamb chops.

Hermione stared at Seamus for a moment. Then she couldn't hold back anymore.

"We truly are." Her eyes glistened with enthusiasm. "Wow, a real werewolf. Why did no-one tell me? I could have asked Professor Lupin so many questions."

"It's bloody brilliant," Seamus agreed. "You know, after I graduate, I'm going to submit my application to the Corps."

Ron raised his eyebrows, scepticism clear on his freckled face. "You know it's harder to get accepted into the Corps than getting accepted into Auror academy, don't you?"

"Yeah," Dean commented. "You'll need more than just a handful of NEWTs."

Seamus shrugged and defended, "I can manage."

Dean merely raised his eyebrows in doubt. Ron grinned while wolfing down his meal. Ginny only shook her head and warned Seamus,

"If you're going to enlist, that's for life. No way back once you're bitten."

†

Hermione dragged out dinner until almost all students had already left the Great Hall. Only then did she get up and sluggishly made her way to the Heads' common room. She wondered how Riddle would punish her. After all, a wizard's duel didn't involve tackling the opponent and half gnawing his hand off.

Glumly Hermione walked up to the centaur that guarded the Heads' chambers. The stone statue jumped out of Hermione's way even before she could mutter any password. Obviously Riddle awaited her. Hermione led her head hang and opened the door. Heart thrumming in her chest, she stood on the threshold. Hermione tensed as she heard Riddle walking over to her but she didn't dare look up at him. Not even as he stood directly in front of her. Her gaze immediately wandered to his left hand. She worried her lip as she found a white bandage wrapped tightly around the hand just where she had bit him.

"There you are," Riddle's deep voice said. "Took you long enough."

Although his voice had not been the expected angry snarl, Hermione still cringed. Riddle's hand closed around her shoulder and pulled her into the room.

"Come in," he said brusquely.

Trepidation turning her stomach, Hermione stood in the Heads' common room, still not looking up at Riddle. He stood before her and Hermione knew he was going to yell at her or, even worse, curse her. So, she quickly bowed to him and whispered,

"I don't know what came over me during the duel. I'm sorry."

"Hm," Riddle hummed.

A finger under her chin forced Hermione to raise her head. Riddle's face was an impenetrable mask but Hermione stiffened as she saw his eyes raging with the same fire she had seen while duelling him. His fingers wandered around her chin until he held her jaw in a painfully tight grip. Hermione supressed a whimper. Riddle's deep blue eyes cut into her, something gleaming in them sinisterly. Then he opened his mouth and said, a threatening tinge laced around his low voice,

"You are sorry, are you?"

His fingers bit achingly into her skin as Hermione blinked tears from her eyes. Swallowing down her fear, she managed to argue weakly,

"I didn't want to duel.  _You_  chose me..."

The murderous sheen in Riddle's eyes flared up and he inquired glacially, "So it's my fault that you fight like a rabid dog, is it?"

Hermione scanned him. His grip was so tight now, she feared he would break her jaw. Painful disappointment crashed down on Hermione. Riddle wanted her to take all blame for that disastrous duel. Hermione shuddered. Somehow she had thought Riddle was different. Special, even. Hermione had hoped that he was nothing like Draco Malfoy, nothing like all those people who continued to spit on her very existence.  _'Filthy animal!'_  Hermione shuddered at Carrow's cold voice. She had hoped that Riddle would be able to see more in her.

_Maybe Riddle is nothing special after all._

Hermione ignored her racing heart and the painful stab in her chest. Looking up at Riddle, she said firmly,

"I only tried to defend myself."

After this, Hermione knew Riddle would slap her. A Mudblood did not have any business defending herself against her master. Riddle would surely curse her. The vicious gleam still burned in his eyes and now flared up even more. He didn't react in the expected way, though. Before Hermione knew what was happening, Riddle abruptly bent down to her. She gasped in surprise as he crashed his mouth against hers. Hungrily his lips moved against her as if he had waited for this to happen.

"Of course you did," Riddle whispered against her lips. "And quite spectacularly, I might add."

With that Riddle straightened up and scanned her through hooded eyes. Hermione was completely flustered by him. She had expected a different outcome of this conversation.

"You are very powerful, Hermione," Riddle whispered, his voice a seductive purr.

Gently he pushed her backwards. Hermione gasped as her legs hit something. She lost her balance and fell down on the couch. Riddle lowered himself down to her. His mouth teased her earlobe before he whispered,

"Never apologize for that."

His fingers skimmed over her cheek and down her neck. Gingerly Riddle pulled at the collar of her blouse, exposing the red skin where he had grabbed Hermione during the duel. He bent down and placed gentle kisses on the sore skin. Then he glanced up at her and said seriously,

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up and she mumbled, "It- it's fine. I've had worse."

A faint frown appeared on his face as Riddle heard that. Quickly, though, it disappeared. The devilish smirk was back in place and he cooed,

"Still, I want to make it up to you."

Before Hermione could question that, he swooped down to her. Once again his mouth was pressed over hers. He sensuously nibbled at her lips, his body pressed against her. All will to argue instantly drained from Hermione. Riddle's fingers gently carded through her hair, drawing a content moan from her. His hand left her hair and skimmed down. Tantalizingly his fingers traced patterns on her stomach.

"T- Tom?" Hermione breathed.

Riddle only chuckled darkly and proceeded to kiss her. Desire welled up in Hermione as Riddle's sneaky fingers teasingly wandered to the buttons of her blouse. Hermione found her head swirl. She couldn't think straight anymore between Riddle's hot kisses and his hands on her body. Hermione knew this was going too far. Yet she was powerless to stop him. Riddle sneakily opened the buttons of her blouse to then greedily brush his fingers over her exposed skin. Hermione shuffled under him, pleasurable shivers running up and down her body. Soon Riddle's fingers made contact with her bra and Hermione gasped softly.

"No," Hermione stuttered weakly, fighting against that traitorous feeling bubbling up in her. "We can't do that."

Riddle didn't want to listen. His hand greedily skimmed over the swell of her breasts. Hermione moaned. His touch evoked incredible feelings to crash down on her. While he caressed her breasts, Riddle's other hand decided to travel slowly down Hermione's body. She knew she needed to push him away, but somehow couldn't convince her arms to move. Hermione's breathing hitched as Riddle's fingers brushed over her leg, fondling the inner side of her thigh. His ministrations lit an exciting fire in Hermione's stomach. She was consumed by that fire and could do nothing but moan as Riddle placed hot kisses over her neck. Hermione moaned as his sneaky fingers wandered upwards her leg until they met with her knickers. Feather-light, the tips of his fingers danced over her clothed skin. Hermione almost burst with lust as she felt the contact. She was unable and unwilling to stop Riddle as his hand found the hem of her knickers and slipped inside. Hermione gasped as he touched her tender flesh. His skilful fingers wandered over her, teasing, exploring, until they found that small nub. A soft groan left Hermione as he started to rub it.

"Y- you…" she choked, her thoughts threatened to be carried away by the hot desire burning in her. "You need to stop."

Riddle replied nothing. His thumb and index finger pinched that little button and Hermione cried out as a wave of pleasure overwhelmed her. She helplessly thrashed under Riddle's body as he explored her needy flesh. A cry of pleasure left her as one of his fingers slipped into her.

"Tom!"

"Yes?" Riddle whispered into her ear, his husky voice showing a hint of amusement.

Hermione's voice was rough with desire but she still managed to argue, "It's wrong…"

He wriggled the finger inside of her and Hermione groaned. Another finger entered her, stretching her. Her breathing came quicker as she felt his fingers moving in and out of her. Hermione could hardly concentrate on anything but that burning feeling originating from her stomach.

"I am your  _Master_ ," Riddle's voice ruthlessly broke through her daze. "So I guess you'll have to just take it."

Hermione could only answer with a groan as all those feelings and urges were pelting down on her. Riddle's mouth traced her neck with kisses as his lips wandered down. She gasped again as he bit her skin where her neck and shoulder met. Riddle quickly tugged her bra out of the way. Then his mouth reached her breasts. Hermione could feel his hot tongue on her skin, playing with her, teasing her. A helpless tremble ran through her body as his tongue traced her nipple. She felt his teeth biting gently down on it and another wave of this burning feeling hit her hard. She could barely concentrate on anything else but his touches, his kisses. He was forcing this on her. Always had she been afraid something like this would happen to her, then why was she feeling so good?

"No," she choked, desperately fighting against that urgent need building up in her. "Stop."

His soft chuckle sent shivers over her whole body. His fingers again entered her tight passage, now deeper than before, while his thumb danced over that little button. Hermione moaned. Riddle's lips left her breast and he raised his head, looking up at her. His blue eyes were glinting darkly as they bored into her, mirroring her own lust. Hermione wanted to but she couldn't avert her eyes.

"I don't think I'm going to stop," Riddle said in his deep voice.

Maintaining eye contact he slid his fingers out of her, just to enter her again, more forceful than before. A tremble ran over her body and she let out another moan. A smirk curled up his mouth.

"No need to lie, Hermione. I can feel how much you enjoy this," Riddle whispered. "Just relax."

The feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of her drove her almost crazy. Her breathing ragged, she still managed to shake her head. It just made him laugh. Then he pressed his mouth over hers, engaging her in a bruising kiss. He sucked at her lower lip, bit it, and again Hermione could do nothing but moan. His tongue slipped into her mouth, taking possession of her. Riddle explored her mouth while his fingers were pumping in and out of her faster now. Her body tensed. The burning ache built up more and more. Hermione couldn't take it anymore. All her thoughts dropped into the back ground. Only that feeling was important. She didn't think any more about who Riddle was. She just raised her arms and wrapped them tightly around his neck, pulling him desperately against herself. Feeling her touch, his kiss became even more passionate. Hermione moaned and ran her fingers through his dark hair.

Then she kissed him back for the first time ever.

Urgently she rubbed her tongue against his, not letting him play alone anymore. Now it was her who plunged her tongue into his mouth. Hungrily exploring, claiming. Everything tingled. Her whole body was on fire. Riddle's lips, his tongue and his hands, they made her almost burst with torturous anticipation. Harshly, Hermione bit down on his lower lip and ripped at his dark hair, demanding his full attention. She wanted him closer still. A gasp left her as his fingers again entered her forcefully and stayed deeply lodged inside of her. With that the burning feeling in her stomach exploded and ran through her whole body. Hermione stopped the kiss and buried her face into Riddle's shoulder as she screamed out in pleasure while clawing at his back. Her whole body trembled as she clutched him desperately, completely enjoying the feelings rushing over her.

Hermione's breathing was heavy as slowly the pleasure ebbed away. Tiredness spread and she leaned against Riddle. Her face was still pressed against him and her arms were tightly wrapped around him. As she lay in his arms, her thoughts decided to come back to her. Slowly Hermione's mind caught up with her actions.  _What_  had she just done with Riddle? Heat hit her face hard and Hermione knew she was blushing fiercely. Now she pressed her face against Riddle not because she felt spent, but because she wanted to hide.

It was Riddle who moved first. After a while, he pulled away from her. He sat beside her on the sofa and Hermione knew his eyes were wandering over her, but she didn't look up at him. She was so embarrassed. What had come over her?

Hermione startled as she again felt his hands on her. She was surprised as he pulled down her skirt, tugged at her bra and carefully buttoned up her blouse so everything was where it should be. Hermione's eyes fluttered up at him. She found Riddle smirking down at her. Surprisingly, it was neither mocking nor in any way degrading. He leaned down to her and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"You are beautiful," his dark voice whispered to her.

For the moment, Hermione decided to ignore her doubts. She smiled up at Riddle and nestled against him, relaxing comfortably against his chest. She contently closed her eyes as she felt him encasing her in his arms.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **If I saw young girls from their mother's arms**

**Bartered and sold for their youthful charms,**

**My eye would flash with a mournful flame,**

**My death-paled cheek grow red with shame.'**

**\- Frances Ellen Watkins Harper**

**(* 1825 †1911)**


	14. Foaming Oceans

Riddle leisurely strolled through an abandoned corridor in direction of the Slytherin common room. As he turned the next corner he spotted Hermione. With her back to him, she walked down the hallway. Her steps were hesitant, telling Riddle that she was very much lost.

A vicious smirk curled his lips as Riddle eyed his Mudblood. Stealthily he crept up on her. Hermione still hadn't noticed his presence, too preoccupied with finding her way out of the dungeons. Riddle snickered inwardly. As he reached her he wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing her back into his chest, and pushed her into a small alcove which was hidden behind a tapestry. Hermione gasped as Riddle forced her into the alcove. She immediately began to fight against his arms around her. He smirked as he saw how she reached for her robe pocket, presumably to pull her wand.  _Good girl_. Before she managed to get to her wand, Riddle bent down to her and whispered into her ear,

"Look at that. If it isn't my favourite Mudblood."

Smugly Riddle noted how Hermione ceased all attempts to escape after she recognised his voice. She craned her neck so she could look behind her.

"Tom?"

He smirked down at her wide eyes. With a slick move he twirled her around so he could press her into the wall behind her. Hermione gasped softly at the movement, but didn't try to get away or stop him in any way. A predatory glint burned in Riddle's eyes as he inquired casually,

"What are you doing in this part of the castle?"

Hermione squirmed under his penetrating stare. Riddle pushed his body closer to her, pinning her against the wall.

"I… I got lost," stammered his Mudblood.

Riddle snickered maliciously and skimmed his fingers over her flushed cheek. He was so close to her, he could feel her chest moving against his with her rapid breathing. Having her body so close made memories of the previous day boil up in Riddle. He had completely enjoyed the feeling of his fingers touching her bare skin and Hermione had reacted so deliciously to his ministrations. The sight of her body thrashing and twitching in the throes of passion had been quite lovely. The smirk on Riddle's face widened.

"You got lost?" he whispered seductively. "Well, aren't you lucky that I should find you?"

Before she could reply, Riddle bent down to her and captured her mouth in a kiss. He could feel her lips trembling in surprise as he nipped at them demandingly. Not waiting for her to adapt, he plunged his tongue in her mouth, engaging her in a fierce kiss. His hands skimmed down the sides of her body and he wished he could just rip those clothes from her body and take her right against the wall.

Riddle ended the kiss before he lost all self-control. Hermione tilted up her head and eyed him in a flustered state. Her gaze held a hint of innocence that simultaneously made Riddle want to destroy and cherish it. He decided against both – for now – and instead leered down at Hermione.

"Hm," he purred and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "I think it's only fair you paid me back for yesterday."

He rubbed himself against her and a twisted smirk begged to take shape on his face as he saw her eyes widen comically with realisation. Instantly her face turned a deep red and she mumbled nervously,

"That… that… I…"

Riddle snickered as he saw her blinking up at him rapidly. Only as he spotted apprehension seeping into her gaze, did he reluctantly decide to take pity on her. He took a step back, granting her more freedom.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to ravish you in an empty corridor."

An evil smirk took form on his face. His blue eyes wandered over her body possessively and he whispered,

"Although it  _is_  tempting."

A pink hue still coloured her cheeks as Riddle grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her out of the alcove. Smug smile adorning his face, he led her down the corridor. Just a few steps away from the Slytherin common room, the Grey Lady calmly floated through the hallway. Riddle greeted her politely, but Helena didn't reply anything. Usually the ghost was quite fond of him. Now, though, she only had eyes for Hermione. An angry spark blazed in Helena's lifeless eyes as she glared at the Mudblood.

"You again!"

Hermione flinched as the spectre hissed at her. Riddle was confused by the ghost's hostility.

"I am sorry," the Mudblood whispered submissively,

It didn't assuage Helena at all. Riddle had never seen such a stormy look on the ghost's pale features. Ravenclaw's daughter was usually sickeningly sweet-tempered. Now, though, rage seeped from her in destructive waves, making the torches near-by flicker dangerously.

"It is no surprise, is it?" Helena spat at Hermione. "That I should encounter you in  _his_  realm."

Riddle tilted his head to the side as he scanned the furious ghost.  _His  realm?_ A subtle glance at Hermione told him that she was confused as well.

"I- I'm sorry," the Mudblood again whispered.

Helena floated closer to Hermione, making the girl wince. Then the ghost whispered venomously,

"Tell him that nothing he can do will prevent me from getting my revenge."

With that said, the Grey Lady rushed away. Riddle's icy blue eyes followed the ghost's silvery shine until it disappeared in the dungeons' darkness.

"Well," Riddle mused lightly, eyeing a shaken Hermione. "That was strange."

He grabbed the Mudblood's hand and pulled her away.

"Do you know her?"

Hermione shook her head and confessed shakily, "I only met her once. And she got really mad at me."

Riddle cocked a curious eyebrow. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," she quickly assured. "Do you know who she is?"

"That's the house ghost of Ravenclaw." A smirk slid on his face and he added innocently, "She's called the Grey Lady."

That made Hermione's brow furrow with concentration. "Grey Lady…?"

She pondered it for a moment, then her eyes flew up to Riddle and she exclaimed, "T- that's  _her_ , isn't it? Helena. Back in Albania, she was the statue on the coff-"

The rest of her revelation was cut short as Riddle pressed his hand over her mouth.

"Keep your voice down," he ordered caustically. "You don't need to advertise that we actually found Helena's lost grave. So shut it."

"I'm sorry, Tom," the Mudblood apologized immediately.

Riddle was sure she would have bowed to him, too, if he hadn't grabbed her by the shoulder. He rolled his eyes. Sometimes dealing with her was rather tedious.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked after a moment.

Thankfully the fearful stutter had left her voice by not. Riddle glanced at her and replied curtly,

"The Slytherin common room."

"Why?"

Riddle tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose and explained, "I may be Head Boy, but I can still spend time in the Slytherin common room."

"Sure." Hermione pursed her lips. "Why do I have to come? I'm no Slytherin."

Riddle arched an elegant eyebrow and asked provocatively, "Why, I thought you  _enjoy_  spending time with me."

He threw her a suggestive look which made her blush rather deliciously. Then she spluttered,

"I… I  _do_."

"Thought so," purred Riddle, satisfied.

†

The Slytherin common room was intimidating. Hermione didn't know whether it was the cold colour scheme of blacks and greens or the tense atmosphere with all the people staring at her. In any way, she felt uncomfortable and longingly glanced at the exit door.

Since Hermione had arrived at Hogwarts, the Slytherins had, although knowing she was Riddle's girlfriend, more or less ignored her. That had changed now. With cold interest they assessed her from afar. If Hermione had to guess, the cause for their sudden interest in her person was her duel with the Head Boy yesterday. It certainly had boosted her popularity with the Gryffindors. Maybe it had influenced the Slytherins as well.

Hermione shifted nervously on the comfortable leather couch. To her great discomfort Draco Malfoy sat directly beside her on the sofa. Luckily Riddle was seated on an armchair not far away. His other friends lounged on sofas and chairs around him. At least Riddle's presence stopped anyone else from approaching her. Hermione had noticed that before. Obviously Riddle inspired reverence in other students. It was probably because he was Head Boy.

Hermione's hand had absentmindedly wandered to her wand in her pocket. Her fingers skimmed over the smooth wood and her thoughts travelled back to Helena. Why was the ghost so hostile? Her anger must somehow be linked to that wand, Hermione mused. She had found that wand right beside Helena's grave. Maybe it had been the ghosts own wand and now the woman thought it was thievery.

"Here's the list of the caterers for the soiree," said Draco's snobbish voice,

Curiously, Hermione watched the blond handing Riddle an envelope. Riddle accepted the envelope but didn't open it and slipped it into his robe pocket. Draco observed him through his grey eyes and supplied fastidiously,

"Why do you even want to know that? I could ask father to get you an invitation if you are so interested…"

Riddle didn't reply but drowned him in an icy look. Cautiously, the blond leaned a bit closer to Riddle. Then he spoke in a low voice, ingratiating smile on his face,

"To get back to the Mudblood issue… I really  _do_  need her back."

Riddle merely arched an elegant eyebrow as if to ask how that was his problem. Draco groaned softly as he saw it.

"Come on," he said, pleading tinge to his voice. "You're not even using her right now. Why can't you just return Penny to me? My father's really cross with me for losing her. He already threatened to dock my allowance."

Hermione sat stock-still as she heard it, almost suffocating in silence. They were talking about her! She couldn't help but stare at Riddle, praying he wouldn't give in to Draco. Riddle merely gazed at the blond, boredom dulling his eyes.

"I told you before," he said silkily. "The Mudblood's mine. She is bound to me now."

"Tom, please," Draco whined. "That bond can be easily switched back to me. Father is really giving me hell about this. He paid a lot for Penny. I… I can give you something else in return. But I really need the Mudblood."

A shadow of anger crossed Tom's blue eyes. Then he hissed, a tone of finality in his sharp voice,

"I said no."

Hermione nervously peered at Draco and knew he hadn't given up on the topic yet. Before he could start again, the entrance to the common room opened and Hermione was almost glad to see Bellatrix Black. A happy smile madly danced around her full lips as Bellatrix crossed the room. She plopped down on the arm rest of Riddle's chair and grinned down at him.

"You wouldn't believe, Tom," Bellatrix giggled, her eyes flashing disturbingly. "If you use a Petrificus Totalus on someone and then hit them with the Babbling Curse, they will actually chew on their own tongue, trying to get a word out."

Bellatrix cackled evilly and leaned comfortably against Riddle's chair while eyeing the wizard.

"I just did that to a Hufflepuff second year," Bellatrix boasted proudly. "The idiot almost bit his tongue off. Rather lots of blood. You would have liked it, Riddle."

Evan Rosier, a rather tall, muscular boy with dark blond hair, looked up from his Quidditch magazine. He eyed Bellatrix and asked, unfazed by those gory details,

"How come you didn't get expelled?"

An insane glint appeared in Bellatrix dark eyes and her lips twisted into a wide smile. She just wanted to reply as her gaze shortly skimmed over to Hermione. Instantly the mischievous conduct left Bellatrix completely. She shot up from her seat and glared daggers at Hermione.

"What is the _Gryffindor_  doing here?" Bellatrix snapped dangerously.

Fury burning in her eyes, she looked at Riddle. He merely raised an eyebrow and informed her languidly,

"I invited her."

Bellatrix' eyes narrowed to furious slits as they rested on Hermione. Hermione tensed as the witch's dark gaze wandered over her. Finally Bellatrix bared her teeth and sneered,

"She is a disturbance."

"Well, she is my girlfriend," was Riddle's calm reply.

Bellatrix spun around. The previous fury suddenly dropped from her pretty face. She smiled at Riddle sweetly and suggested in a saccharine voice,

"I didn't realize we could invite fuck-buddies."

Riddle's frosty eyes narrowed at Bellatrix and he said, a dangerous tint hidden in his tone,

"I beg your pardon?"

Mock surprise spread all over Bellatrix' face and she theatrically grabbed her chest.

"Don't tell me you haven't tapped her yet!" An evil smirk slowly twisted Bellatrix' lips upwards as she said ominously, "If you don't want her, give her to me."

Riddle calmly scanned Bellatrix through his icy blue eyes. Slowly a cruel smirk stretched his lips and he suggested,

"If you want a plaything, go and find your own. I don't like sharing."

Bellatrix pursed her lips sullenly. Surprisingly it was Dolohov who spoke next. Evil smirk in place, he suggested innocently,

"Hm, Bellatrix. Didn't you see that duel yesterday? The Gryffindor might be too much for you to handle."

Unbridled anger burned up in Bellatrix' dark eyes as she glowered at Dolohov's grinning face. Already her hand wandered to her robe pocket. Before she could pull her wand, though, Riddle's cold voice stopped her,

"Enough."

There was not even a hint of anger or any emotion on his blank face as he scanned Bellatrix and Dolohov. Still, both of them squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Finally Riddle supplied, his voice unmistakably an order,

"Now that we are all gathered, it's time to take this to somewhere more private."

Immediately everyone stood up, ready to follow him. Gracefully Riddle got up from his arm chair. His deep blue eyes shortly came to rest on Hermione. She peered at him timidly.

"Regulus?" said Riddle sharply.

The boy, who stood at the back of the group, tensed and stared at Riddle. Riddle eyed him coldly before he ordered imperiously,

"Escort Hermione to the Great Hall. It's almost time for dinner."

Regulus inclined his head and muttered, "Of course, Tom."

Riddle didn't reply but instead stepped over to Hermione. Cautiously she looked up at him.

"Hermione, you go with Regulus," Riddle's voice was still commanding but the coldness had melted from it. "I'll see you after dinner in the Heads' chambers."

"Er… It's Friday," whispered Hermione tentatively. "I… Today's that party. You remember?"

Riddle frowned but then nodded. He bent down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"I expect you to be back by eleven," he reminded sternly.

"Yes, Tom."

†

Hermione threw a look at the boy walking beside her. Regulus Black. He was rather small and quite lanky. Still, with his shiny black hair, fine features and the shy smile, he looked cute.

He somehow didn't fit into Riddle's group of friends. Not when people like Dolohov or Rosier, with the tall physique of Quidditch players, were part of the same group. Regulus didn't have the snobbish conduct of Draco or Bellatrix' violent madness either. It made Hermione wonder how he had started to be friends with Riddle.

"I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed that duel yesterday, Ms Rookwood." Regulus smiled at her shyly. "It really was a surprise."

Not being used to taking compliments, Hermione blushed and mumbled, "Thank you. But I kinda lost anyway."

Regulus raised his eyebrows. "I don't think so. At the very least it was a draw. Even Lupin congratulated you. Not something he does very often."

"Maybe. But Tom disarmed me. So he won."

"You should know, Ms Rookwood," Regulus said as they climbed a flight of stairs to leave the dungeons. "When Tom duels, his opponents usually don't last longer than a few seconds. Before you turned up in DADA, he was undefeated."

Hermione creased her brow as she looked at Regulus. Then she said ruefully, "Still, I shouldn't have attacked him like that… I mean,  _physically_."

The Slytherin chuckled softly. "It actually was kind of refreshing to see him struggling for once."

A small smile appeared on Hermione's face. It was strange how relaxed she felt in Regulus' presence. Aside from Riddle, there weren't many wizards Hermione felt so calm. Maybe there was a reason those two were friends after all.

"You shouldn't say something like that," Hermione teased gently. "After all Tom's your friend."

With that, the smile dropped from Regulus' face. Instead he threw her a searching look.

"Yes," Regulus whispered in a sombre tone. "…my friend."

Before Hermione could question his suddenly glum mood, Regulus flashed her a smile and asked, his voice once again amiable,

"Boyfriend aside, how do you like Hogwarts so far?"

Hermione was bewildered by strange behaviour but replied anyway, "It's wonderful."

"You were home-schooled before?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. But Hogwarts is way better."

"I see." Regulus sent her a warm smile. "Which one is your favourite class so far?"

A wide smile appeared on Hermione's face. For the rest of their journey to the Great Hall, she couldn't stop to ramble about all her classes and how enjoyable they were. It became quickly clear that she couldn't name only one favourite. Regulus smiled as he listened to Hermione's enthused speech.

"…though potions is not really my forte. But Tom's helping me out there," Hermione said cheerfully. "Ancient Runes was really interesting, too. I already finished the essay Wenlock gave us."

"Really?" asked Regulus amusedly.

They both stepped into the Great Hall. A few students already sat at the house tables. Regulus accompanied Hermione over to the Gryffindor table.

"I like Ancient Runes myself," he said smilingly. "Maybe next time we could work on the essay together."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. Regulus sent her another smile before he excused himself. As Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table and watched him leaving the Great Hall, she realized that she hadn't even asked him what he, Riddle and their other friends were up to.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was some time later that Hermione left the library in a hurry. She hadn't noticed how time had flown by and she scolded herself for having been unable to resist the books. The Gryffindor party had already started. Hermione really looked forward to it. Never before had she gone to any parties. Well, at Malfoy manor Draco had sometimes invited some of his friends over but Hermione had never enjoyed the occasions. She had been expected to serve the guests, clean up the mess afterwards and on top of it Draco could get downright nasty when drunk. Hermione felt quite giddy, walking to a party where she was actually a guest. She really was grateful that Riddle had allowed her to go.

As Hermione's thoughts drifted to the Head Boy a heat wave hit her hard and she knew she was blushing. Memories of the day before flickered through Hermione's mind; first the duel during DADA, then that…  _thing_  that happened in the Heads' chambers. A pleasant shudder ran over Hermione as she remembered the feeling of Tom's fingers on her body, the way he had kissed her and held her afterwards. She didn't know what to make of it. Tom was her master, he could do with her whatever he desired. But she should certainly not enjoy it. She still had, though, and had kissed him back …rather heatedly, too.

"-reason why you shouldn't be here." A voice drifted to Hermione from one of the dark hallways she just passed.

Cautiously she peered into the corridor. Not far away she could see two figures. Shaggy blond hair, clad in a heavy cloak, one of them was Lupin. The other figure was more than a head smaller and quite delicate compared to Lupin's tall built. Hermione furrowed her brow at Alecto Carrow, the History of Magic professor. A nasty snarl twisted the woman's face as she glared up at the werewolf.

"I'll talk with Dippet," Carrow thundered bitingly. "Believe me, he'll throw you out of here right away."

Despite the woman's aggressive manner, Lupin merely snickered at her. His voice was calm as he drawled,

"You already tried that last year. Remember, poppet? Didn't do you any good. I'm still here."

Fury erupted on Carrow's face and she took an angry step towards Lupin. Hate burned in her eyes as she stared up at the man. Then she opened her mouth and snapped,

"You are a dirty  _HALFBLOOD_! You should never have been born. It's disgusting!"

A nasty look appeared on Lupin's face as he heard it. His teeth were bared in a snarl. Then he growled, unmistakable threat in his voice,

"Better watch how you talk with me, Carrow. You never know when I'm going to snap."

Carrow sneered at the werewolf, though she  _did_  take a step back from him. Evil look on her face, she hissed,

"I don't know what possessed Dippet to let someone like you teach. A Halfblood? You are no better than a filthy _Mudblood_."

Lupin laughed, a cruel tint to the sound. His yellow eyes glinted fiercely as he replied,

"I'm no Halfblood." Harsh pride was in his voice as he added, "I am a  _werewolf_  before anything else."

Smoothly he took a step towards Carrow, so that they now stood not even a foot apart. Hermione could see Carrow's form tense as the werewolf was so close. She couldn't blame the woman. Lupin looked ready to kill, what with that predatory glint in his eyes, as he growled dangerously,

"The pack is my family and the Corps the only authority I have to accept. So, if I were you, I would just shut up, girl. You don't want to anger the big bad wolf."

Carrow took an abrupt step back. Visibly shaken, she fought to maintain that superior look on her face.

"Are you threatening me, Lupin?" she hissed shrilly.

A feral smile crept on Lupin's face, showing his teeth. His eerie yellow eyes swept one last time over Carrow. Then, without answering anything, he just turned around and calmly strolled down the corridor. Right towards her, Hermione realized belatedly. She tensed as Lupin passed the position where she was hidden behind the corner. Hermione swallowed nervously, but then decided to follow the man. Lupin was grumbling under his breath while he fumbled something out of his cloak pocket.

"That little shithead…"

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out, grabbed one and immediately put it in his mouth. A snap of his fingers and a small flame hovered over his thumb. Quickly he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. Then the werewolf growled in his deep voice,

"What do you want from me, Rookwood?"

He hadn't turned around to Hermione but simply continued his way. She quickly caught up to him. As she walked beside him, Hermione could see an emblem on Lupin's cloak, right over his biceps. It showed the outline of a black wolf howling to the circle of a yellow moon. On the collar of the cloak, Hermione spotted three stripes in the same yellow colour. Lupin scanned Hermione silently, the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. As she noticed his stare she whispered meekly,

"I didn't want to eavesdrop. I'm sorry, Professor Lupin."

The werewolf continued to stare, his yellow eyes glinting dangerously. Then he told her gruffly,

"I'm no professor. Thankfully…" He glared in the direction Carrow had wandered off to. "Otherwise I'd have to listen to her shit the whole goddamned week."

"Oh… er…" Hermione peeked up at the man. "Then, I'm sorry,  _Mr_  Lupin?"

"It's Captain," Lupin told her, taking another deep drag from his cigarette. " _Captain_  Lupin."

Hermione nodded. Then she asked tentatively, "Where are you going to, Capt. Lupin?"

Lupin sighed and told her sarcastically, "It might surprise you but teaching brats how to hold a wand is not my primary task."

Hermione peered up at him, confused. A grin slipped on Lupin's face, taking a bit away from his fearsome look.

"I'm getting back to the barracks," he explained. "If I'm lucky, there's still some firewhiskey left for me."

By now they had reached the Entrance Hall and walked towards the front doors. Lupin eyed Hermione suspiciously before he asked gruffly,

"And what are your plans for tonight, Rookwood?"

"Oh… er…"

Hermione didn't know if she should tell him about the Gryffindor party. Then again, she didn't think Lupin would mind too much. So she smiled up at him and told him,

"The Gryffindors are having a party down by the lake."

That revelation seemed to lighten Lupin's mood considerably. A lopsided grin appeared on his face and his eyes sparkled playfully.

"Oh, one of the legendary Gryffindor parties?" he inquired amusedly.

"Legendary…?"

Lupin chuckled while he opened the Entrance Doors with a small wave of his wand. They both stepped outside and the werewolf said good-naturedly,

"Back in my day, they sure were."

Hermione wrapped her black robe tighter around herself. She rubbed her arms to stay warm and asked softly,

"Did you attend Hogwarts yourself?"

"Yes," the werewolf proclaimed proudly. "In Gryffindor. The best house by far."

Hermione giggled softly. Lupin was a fellow Gryffindor? Who would have thought? She couldn't picture the man sitting idly in a classroom.

"How was your time at Hogwarts?"

Lupin's yellow eyes left Hermione and he let his gaze glide over the castle. Easy grin gone from his face, he sighed softly,

"Conflicting."

There was a pause in the conversation, Lupin seemingly lost in memories. He flipped the butt of his cigarette away, not caring where it landed, and immediately pulled a new one. As he offered Hermione a cigarette, she shook her head.  _He really is no professor_, she thought but didn't comment. Instead she asked cautiously,

"When did you enter the Corps?"

Lupin chuckled. "You are full of questions, aren't you?"

Hermione blushed and ducked her head. "I'm sorry, Capt. Lupin."

He merely shrugged it off and said, "I enlisted when I was seventeen, actually. Right after I graduated."

He rolled up the sleeve of his right arm and showed her a pair of scars on his tanned skin. Sharp teeth must have ripped some nasty wounds into his muscled arm.

"After eleven months of training as a recruit I got accepted," Lupin told Hermione, grinning down at the scars. "Eleven months of fucking hell, mind you. Made me want to die. But I pulled through, got the bite and entered the Corps. End of story." He glanced at Hermione playfully. "Any more questions?"

Hermione quickly shook her head and whispered shyly, "No, sir."

Lupin barked out a laugh and commented, "For someone who has quite the dangerous claws, you are very timid."

Hermione peered up at him cautiously. The werewolf merely grinned and teased, "I  _am_  glad, though, that you are one of the few who already know how to hold a wand. Less work for me."

They had left the castle behind and not far away Hermione spotted the waters of the Great Lake glinting in the darkness. Lupin stopped walking and grinned down at her.

"Well, that's were our ways part."

Hermione nodded. Before he could slip away, she asked, "When do you come back?"

"Thursday," the werewolf said, still grinning. "Every Thursday till Friday, until my commander takes pity on me."

"I liked your class," Hermione said timidly. She furrowed her brow. "Well, right up until the point where Tom tried to burn me alive."

"Yeah, you have to watch out for that one. He's got the killer instinct," Lupin chuckled. "I probably should have stopped that duel before Riddle tried to grill you…"

Lupin shrugged carelessly and threw Hermione another grin. Waving his hand, he bid farewell and disappeared into the night. A small smile hovered around Hermione's face as she walked the path down towards the lake. Soon, she could hear music and chatter. The lake glistened in the pale moonlight but Hermione's gaze was instantly drawn to the tent which stood right at the shore of the lake. It was a large canopy made of white cloth. Lampions, held by nothing but magic, floated around the tent and under its ceiling, illuminating everything in a merry orange light. People had gathered in the tent, chatting and laughing loudly, while music boasted from a magical gramophone.

Cautiously Hermione stepped into the tent and was hit by pleasant warmth. The tent was protected by Warming Charms to keep out the frosty January air. Hermione felt a bit nervous as she walked further into the tent. People stood close and she was hit by the urge to keep out of their way. She had to constantly remind herself that she was no servant but a guest. That thought just crossed her mind as she accidently bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry," Hermione quickly apologized.

She looked up and instantly recognized the girl, tall, long, almost black hair. She was the one who had welcomed Hermione at Hogsmeade station and introduced her to Hogwarts. The Head Girl, Lisa Turpin.

"It's fine," replied the Head Girl, her voice strangely curt.

Turpin eyed Hermione through narrowed eyes. The last time Hermione had spoken with Turpin, the girl had been cheerful and kind. Now she was being quite chilly.

"Er…" muttered Hermione, not knowing what she had done wrong. "I wanted to… thank you again. For taking care of me when I arrived here."

Turpin eyed Hermione, still through suspicious eyes. After a second of uncomfortable silence, the Head Girl remarked coldly,

"Why didn't Riddle look after you? He  _is_  your boyfriend, isn't he?"

Hermione nodded and quickly lied, "He told me he had something to discuss with a friend. So didn't have time."

The suspicion in Turpin's eyes didn't dim. "Why are you together with Riddle?"

Hermione blinked up at Turpin, confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

Not answering that, the Head Girl inquired darkly, "Did no-one warn you about him?"

"Warn me?" Hermione asked confused. "Why?"

"He's… Riddle is…"

The Head Girl didn't finish but shook her head. Then she took a step towards Hermione, laid a hand gently on her shoulder, and whispered under her breath,

"Listen, Hermione, you seem like a really nice girl. So I'll give you an advice:  _Stay away from Riddle_. He's seriously into the Dark Arts. And his so-called  _friends_  are no better. I know he acts like a nice guy, but he really is not. Riddle is dangerous."

Before Hermione could react in any way, Turpin had turned around and disappeared into the throng of people. Hermione stared after the Head Girl, her stomach clenching uncomfortably. Since she started at Hogwarts, people kept warning her about Riddle. First Parvati, then Ginny and Ron, now Turpin. Hermione breathed in deeply. Was Riddle really dangerous? He certainly could be scary but he had never really hurt her. Threatened, maybe, but he never pulled through with it. Riddle hadn't even slapped her once. Something that had been a daily occurrence back in Malfoy manor.

"Hey," a voice cut through her thought process. "There you are."

Before Hermione could say anything, arms wrapped around her and hugged her against a warm body. Startled she looked up at her captor and found the happy face of Ron grinning down at her.

"You, Miss,-" he chided teasingly. "-are late."

Hermione giggled and wound herself out of his embrace.

"I'm not," she said with fake indignation. "You said the party starts after dinner. It still is 'after dinner'."

Ron scratched his head. Then he raised his glass to his lips, drained it in one go, and exclaimed cheerfully,

"I guess you're right. Now come here." He grabbed her arm. "You're missing all the fun."

Quickly he pulled her over to a group of beach chairs. Hermione saw Ginny and Dean lazing around in one of them. Seamus sat in another, emptying a bottle of Butterbeer in one go. He burped loudly, which gained him a raised eyebrow from Ginny, before he grinned at Hermione.

"Uh, look who's here. The new girl."

"You are a fucking drunkard," Ron stated.

"Maybe," Seamus fired back. "But so are you."

Ron merely shrugged, not denying it. Instead he grabbed a bottle of what looked suspiciously like firewhiskey and poured it in a couple of plastic cups. Then he handed them to his friends. As he offered Hermione one, she refused,

"No. Thank you."

"Oh no, Hermione," giggled Ginny from her beach chair. "If you don't get drunk, you won't be able to survive this."

Dean started to tickle her. As Ginny broke down in laughter, Ron pushed Hermione down on another beach chair while he sat down on the footrest of the same chair.

†

It was some time later, that Hermione still sat on the same beach chair while having the time of her life. She was laughing and giggling as she talked with her friends. She never knew that parties could be this much fun. By now her friends were quite drunk, while Hermione had stuck to pumpkin juice.

"I mean, seriously," Dean exclaimed, smiling broadly. "Tom Riddle's girlfriend. I never imagined her to be quite so… so…" He eyed Hermione drunkenly, squinting his glassy eyes. "Well, nice actually."

Hermione felt uncomfortable and a blush hit her face hard. Suddenly there was an arm around her shoulders. Ron skidded closer to her on the beach chair. Scanning Dean, he slurred smilingly,

"You are embarrassing her, mate."

"Aw, don't get us wrong, Hermione," Seamus said, patting her head while taking a gulp from his plastic cup. "You are _really_  lovely."

Ginny giggled sillily and remarked, "Yes, you are. That's actually the surprise. I thought Riddle's girlfriend would… well… I always pictured her with demon's horns, a forked tongue and… and…"

As she was searching for words, Seamus happily helped her out, "With a necklace made of baby bones."

Hermione couldn't help it, she broke down into giggles. Ron grinned at her and added,

"I thought for sure his girlfriend would have to be a vampire."

They still laughed as Parvati and Lavender stepped over to them, joining their group. They were engaged in a happy discussion about how best to fend off a vampire as Hermione sighed and comfortably leaned back into her chair.

"Tired?" asked Ron softly.

Hermione looked up at his blue eyes. They were a few shades lighter than Riddle's deep blue ones and held a cheerful sparkle. Hermione shook her head at Ron and smiled.

"So, do you like the party?" he asked.

"Very much."

"Way better than being home-schooled, hm?"

Hermione's smile widened. "Definitely."

"I'm really glad Mum never considered home-schooling us." Ron's grin widened as he glanced at Hermione. "You have to know, I've got five brothers …and Ginny, of course."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "So many siblings? That must be really fun."

"More like suffocating. Imagine us all being home-schooled. The house would burst." Ron laughed and took a gulp from his cup. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Ehm…" Hermione bent her head and looked down. "No."

Her heart clenched painfully as it always did when she thought of her parents. Ron had obviously seen the sad look on her face, because he tried to cheer her up.

"You know, you should come and visit the Burrow some time," he offered enthusiastically. "It's actually not so bad. As long as you escape Mum when she wants you to do chores. Imagine washing the dishes when there are nine people to the household."

Hermione furrowed her brow as she heard that. "Your family doesn't have any Mudbloods?"

"Nah," Ron snorted amusedly. "What do you think we are? Filthy rich?" He shrugged and emptied his cup. "My dad's against it anyways."

Hermione's eyes widened and she whispered horrified, "He's against Mudbloods?"

"What?" Ron eyed her, confused, before he explained, "No. Not against them. But… Well, you see, he's a huge fan of Muggle technology, my dad. He insists they are dead smart. He's against Muggles or Mudbloods being used and all that."

"Oh," made Hermione, surprised by that new concept.

She sat in her beach chair, deep in thought. Wizards, who thought using Mudbloods was wrong? Did that really exist? She had had no idea. A small smile curved her lips as she peered at Ron. By now he was engaged in an arm wrestling match against Seamus while the rest laughed and cheered. It would be nice to visit Ron's home. Hermione wondered if Tom would let her go. Maybe Ron could invite him as well. Then again they didn't like each other much. As her thoughts spun around Tom, Hermione remembered an order he had given her. Instantly she was ripped from her contemplations.

"What time is it?"

Ron and Seamus were still engaged in their match, but Lavender checked her tiny silver wrist watch.

"A quarter to eleven. Why?"

"Er…" said Hermione, slowly getting up. "I think I'll go back to the castle."

"Aw, no," whined Parvati who sat right beside her. "It's still early."

"No, really," Hermione insisted. "I'll head back to the castle."

"Come on," said Seamus, who had by now ended his little match with Ron. "Stay."

Hermione looked down at her friends. She was hit with pleasant warmth as she realized they really wanted her to stay. Those witches and wizards really enjoyed spending time with  _her_. Hermione wanted to stay, but Riddle had explicitly told her to be back by eleven.

"Okay then," voiced Ron. "If you insist. But then, I'll escort you back."

"Oh, no no," Hermione said, not wanting him to leave the party on her accord. "That's not necessary. I'll find my way back just fine."

Seamus giggled and added, "And if anyone attacks you, you just hex them with your mad duelling skills. Ron wouldn't be of help anyways."

Before this could result into a full-blown discussion, Hermione said her good-byes, and quickly left her friends. Lavender's giggling voice drifted after her,

"I'm sure she's off to meet Riddle."

†

Hermione hurried down a dark corridor towards the Moving staircase. She really didn't want to be late or Riddle would surely be angry. Distractedly her hand wandered to her robe pocket. She pulled her small potion flask and removed the stopper. Then she raised it to her lips. The Polyjuice still tasted horrible. The strong mint flavour burned in her throat and the metallic aftertaste reminded her of blood. As Hermione stowed the flask away while simultaneously hurrying on, she didn't watch where she was going. A soft gasp left her as she ran into someone.

"I'm sorry," she stammered.

As she looked up to see whom she had bumped into, she half expected to see Riddle's icy blue eyes. Instead she spotted platinum blond hair and a fastidious smirk.

"Ms Rookwood," Draco Malfoy drawled. "Fancy meeting you here."

Hermione stared up at him, trapped in a wave of irrational fear. The urge to hit her and she had to forcefully remind herself that she wasn't Draco's servant anymore.

"Mr Malfoy," Hermione greeted, her voice not as firm as she had hoped.

Draco smirked and Hermione just wanted to turn and run. Still she was glued to the spot.

"Please," he said in a low voice. "Call me 'Draco'."

Cold shivers ran up and down her spine. Draco smiled at her, flirtatious glint in his eyes, and asked,

"What are you doing here, Hermione? It's quite late already."

"I… I was in the library," stuttered Hermione quickly.

"Always so studious," he sighed amusedly. "It's a shame you didn't end up in Slytherin. You could have secured us many house points."

Draco smiled at her, his grey eyes glinting invitingly. Hermione wanted to flee and never look back. She could barely hide her tremble as he raised his hand and gently skimmed his fingers over her arm. Attentively brushing away some non-existent dirt.

"Say, Hermione. Why do you always have to drink that potion?"

Hermione's heart fluttered with panic. She felt the need to take the potions flask from her pocket and press it protectively against her chest. It was the flask of Polyjuice that was Hermione's only shield. Without it, Draco wouldn't converse with her in such a civilised manner. He would slap her and curse her without a second thought. Swallowing down all fear, Hermione whispered in a shaky voice,

"Dragon Pox. I had it when I was a baby."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Quite the dangerous ailment."

Hermione nodded hastily. "Yes. That's why I have to take Gorsemoor's Potion. So the Dragon Pox won't come back."

Draco nodded sympathetically. "You know, my Grandfather died of Dragon pox."

Hermione spotted a sad sheen in his grey eyes and knew he was putting up a show. Draco had never liked his Grandfather. As Abraxas Malfoy had died not even two years ago, Draco hadn't been too mournful. A look of faux grief had been pasted on his face during the funeral, not before and certainly not after.

"I am sorry to hear that," Hermione commented stiltedly.

"Thank you," was Draco's polite reply.

He threw her a smile which made Hermione shiver unpleasantly. Draco didn't notice her discomfort or he simply didn't care. Instead he commented conversationally,

"You know, ever since you arrived here, the boys and I have wondered how you've managed to twist Tom around your little finger."

"I… I hardly did that," was Hermione's wary reply.

"Of course not." The Slytherin chuckled softly. "Still, after that duel in DADA it's become quite clear why Tom likes you so much. Even though you are – excuse me – just a Gryffindor."

Hermione hummed, not quite knowing what to reply.

"Say, Hermione," Draco asked suavely. "Has Tom ever invited you to the Heads' quarters."

Hermione frowned up at the blond. "Yes. Why?"

"Oh, I was just curious." Draco presented her with an innocent smile. "Do you, by any chance, know whether Riddle has a Mudblood?"

Draco's question made Hermione tense involuntarily. Frantically she wondered what route to take. In the end she stuttered,

"N-no, he doesn't."

"Hm." Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure? The Mudblood would have been female. Not that old. Ugly hair."

Hermione shook her head.  _My hair's not ugly!_  she wanted to yell at the conceited Slytherin, but remained to be silent.

"A pity," Draco sighed.

Hermione tried to calm her breathing, hoping the conversation would come to an end now. Unfortunately the Slytherin had other plans.

"How did you actually meet Tom?"

"I… er…" Hermione stuttered, not having any answer to that. "What?"

Draco smirked at her and Hermione swallowed nervously.

"Well, this is your first time at Hogwarts, is it not?" Draco said, fake innocence in his tone. "I just wondered how you became acquainted with Tom, seeing as he already was your  _boyfriend_  even before you arrived here."

Hermione's heart raced away in her chest and cold sweat appeared on her brow. What could she reply? How much did Draco know about Riddle's family?

"O-our parents… knew each other." She squirmed.

Draco arched an unimpressed eyebrow, the fake politeness still on his face.

"Is that so?" he inquired loftily. "You know,  _strangely enough_ , Tom never talks much about his family."

He stepped closer to Hermione. His chest was almost brushing hers. Hermione could barely think with her body was frozen over with fear. The last time she had been so close to Draco, he had yelled at her and slapped her.

"So the Rookwoods and the Riddles are  _friends_?" asked Draco, inviting smile on his face.

"Er… it's…"

Hermione desperately searched for a way out of this. Draco raised his hand and she could barely hide the flinch. Gently he laid his hand on Hermione's shoulder, his thumb softly rubbing over her. She completely tensed under this intimate contact.

"Have you visited the Riddles before?" Draco asked. "You know, I never got to see Tom's home." His lips curled up into a dangerous smile. "I am just so  _curious_. Surely you understand…"

The hand on her shoulder felt like it weighed tons. Hermione's eyes were widened by panic as she stared up at the blond Slytherin.

"Come on, Hermione. You can tell me."

She cringed violently as Draco whispered into her ear, his voice a seductive purr. She could even feel his hot breath against her skin, so close was he. It was enough for Hermione to lose her composure. She didn't want Draco anywhere near her. She didn't want to lie trembling at his feet anymore!

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line as her fear slowly morphed and turned into something else. Panic and anxiety dropped from her as something hot rushed through Hermione's body.

Hadn't she endured Draco for long enough?

Hermione embraced that hot feeling inside of her and decided to let that fury be her guide. Her hand dug into her robe pocket and grabbed her wand.

_Yes, my wand!_

In one swift motion Hermione pulled the wand. Draco was too preoccupied with seducing her,  _Of all things!_ , and didn't notice as she slashed her wand through the air.

_Conjiceris!_

A spell detached itself from the wand's tip and crashed into Draco's chest. Hermione could see grey eyes widen in surprise, then the Slytherin was forcefully hurled away. He smacked violently into the corridor wall behind him. A soft gasp left his mouth before he crumbled down. He came to rest lying unconscious on the floor.

Hermione stood, wand still raised, in the dark corridor and stared down at the unconscious Draco. The darkness of the corridor enveloped his form. If she squinted her eyes, he was hardly there. Hermione blinked several times until her brain could catch up with the events. This wasn't right. She couldn't go and curse a  _wizard_! Hermione knew this was really bad.

All the same, a giddy feeling was happily rushing through her. Her lips curled up into a merry smile as Hermione examined her work. She really got him good, didn't she? Giggles wanted to break from her mouth as she scanned Draco's slumped form. She would have laughed out loud, if there hadn't been a voice, interrupting her victory,

"Hermione?"

She stiffened and hid her wand behind her back. As she turned around she saw Riddle climbing up the stairs from the dungeons.

"Didn't I tell you to be back by eleven?" he hissed, anger leaking through his voice.

"Y- yes," Hermione stuttered while inconspicuously stepping in front of Draco, so Riddle wouldn't spot him.

The angry frown on Riddle's forehead got even deeper. His eyes were glowing dangerously as he stepped closer to Hermione.

"Then why are you still ghosting around the corridors?" he hissed at her.

"Um… I…" Hermione desperately searched for any form of explanation.

Riddle now stood directly in front of her. She could feel his angry dark magic crackling around him. Luckily he hadn't yet spotted Draco. Hermione thanked Merlin and Circe that it was so dark in the corridor.

"You see…" she stalled for time. Then it hit her and she blurted out, "I actually don't have a watch. So you can hardly blame me for being late."

She innocently peered up at Riddle. His jaw was clenched and his hands balled into angry fists. Hermione felt her Dark Mark aching forebodingly.

"You don't have a watch…" Riddle echoed her words.

The lethal tint in his voice made chills darting down Hermione's spine and she shied away from him. As she moved, Riddle's fury filled eyes left her and narrowed dangerously.

"What is that?" he demanded to know.

Gruffly he shoved Hermione out of the way and looked down at the corridor floor where Draco still lay.

"Draco Malfoy?" Riddle's stormy gaze flicked to Hermione and he demanded to know, "Why's he lying here? Unconscious?"

"Erm… well…" Hermione mumbled.

A renewed wave of rage threatened to overtake Riddle in face of her stuttering. She gulped nervously and explained sheepishly,

"I left the party on time. Honestly. But then Draco stopped me. He wouldn't let me go. So I-"

Hermione looked down at Draco's body, slumped against the corridor wall.

"So I kinda cursed him."

She raised her gaze back at Riddle. The anger was still all over his face and he glared down at Draco.

"Why wouldn't he let you go?" he asked, his voice deathly cold.

Hermione was intimidated by the murderous inflection in his tone. Her breathing came fast now and she cast her eyes down.

"I'm sorry," she whispered submissively. "I shouldn't have cursed him. I just didn't know what else to d-"

"Hermione," Riddle's sharp voice stopped her. "What did he  _want_  from you?"

"He- he wanted to know how I knew you," Hermione explained hastily. "He asked all kinds of questions. Like, how we met or where you live."

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at Riddle. She gestured wildly at the space between the two of them and said shrilly,

"And he stood so close. Like you are now. I didn't like it. Back in… in… back  _then_ , he would always loom like that over me. Then he would lash out."

A shudder ran over her. "He made me nervous and then… so angry. That's why I cursed him."

Riddle's steely eyes left her and he gazed down at Draco. Hermione looked up at him worriedly. She was completely taken of guard as Riddle chuckled. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Dark amusement danced in his eyes as Riddle stepped closer to her. Still snickering softly, he took her hand in his and pulled her away from Draco.

"Are you not angry with me?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Tom shook his head and said, twisted mirth in his voice, "No. After all, you had quite the convincing excuse for being late."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "But I cursed a  _wizard_."

He shrugged. "Can't say I care."

Hermione blinked at him. This was… unexpected. She – a Mudblood – impersonated a Pureblood, stole a real wand and used it to attack a wizard. That were the worst crimes a Mudblood could ever commit, right there. And Riddle… he just didn't  _care_? Hermione shook her head, trying to get rid of the dizziness.

"I… I… I did it  _intentionally_ ," she confessed stupidly, just to make sure he really understood the situation.

"Yes," Tom chuckled. "I gathered that much."

"And you are… okay with that?" Hermione inquired hesitantly, disbelievingly.

Tom still held her hand tightly and led her up the Moving Staircase. He turned to her, his eyes flashing with amusement.

"Pretty much. Yes."

Hermione eyed him warily and had to make sure, "So, you're not going to crucio me?"

The amusement lingered in his eyes as Riddle replied, "You almost sound as if you want me to do it."

"NO!" Hermione quickly denied.

Riddle snickered. A nasty smirk appeared on his face and he suggested, "I daresay Malfoy deserved something like this anyway."

Hermione arched her eyebrows at him. As he flashed his white teeth at her, she couldn't help but grin back at him.

"How was your little party?" Tom asked, abruptly changing the topic. "Did you have fun?"

Hermione spluttered, not quite being over the Draco debacle yet. Then she just shrugged it off and replied,

"It was quite nice, actually." She peered up at him. "Do Slytherins have parties as well?"

Tom nodded and replied teasingly, "We do. Though we don't have them outside in the middle of January like you stupid Gryffindors."

Hermione huffed and shot back, "Gryffindors are not stupid. There was a huge tent with Warming Charms and everything."

Tom chuckled as he heard her. By now they had reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Before Hermione turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady, her eyes fluttered up to Tom's blue ones. Turpin's warning flew through her head.

' _Riddle is dangerous.'_

Hesitantly, Hermione stepped closer to him. Tom scanned her through his frosty eyes. Staring into those blue wells, Hermione didn't think them so chilly after all. She cautiously raised a hand. Her heart raced away in her chest as she lightly put the hand on his forearm. In wonder, she stared down at her hand touching him. Quickly she peered up at Tom, expecting him to be enraged by her impudence.

His eyes were still calm pools of blue. He didn't seem to mind that she had dared to initiate contact. The lack of anger on his face reassured Hermione. Her trembling hand left Tom's forearm and skimmed upwards over his chest. The material of his shirt felt silky soft under her fingers. Tom didn't stop her but allowed her to run her hand over him. Her fingers had reached his shoulder and now timidly slipped to the back of his neck. Hermione's stomach constricted painfully but something stronger than her fear drove her on.

Her hand still lay at the back of his neck. She gulped but then tentatively pulled at him. She expected Tom to finally stop her and yell at her, so her eyes widened in surprise as he instead complied with her and bent down. Hermione's breathing was accelerated but she inched closer to his face. Her lower lip was quivering nervously. Still, she dared to press her mouth against his.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt his soft lips against hers. She kissed him shyly, still waiting for him to push her away. He didn't, though, and Hermione gathered more courage. She wrapped both her arms around his neck and leaned against him while she continued to kiss him. A pleasant feeling rushed through her and made her heart skip a few beats. She felt him putting his hands gently down on her waist. It didn't frighten her, instead it sent another enjoyable jolt through her. He responded to her kiss but strangely didn't try to control it. He let her continue to explore without forcing her in any direction. Hermione enjoyed feeling of his lips against hers.

She didn't know how long she had kissed him, but after a while she ended the kiss and took a step away from Tom. As Hermione broke the kiss her fear suddenly flashed back to her. She stood before Tom and didn't dare to look up at him. After a while she felt his hand on her shoulder and flinched, preparing herself for his wrath. But then he just said,

"It's late. Go to your dorm."

Hermione looked up at him in surprise. Without saying any more, he gently pushed her towards the portrait of the Fat Lady.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **In your poisoned wounds**

**Fall the shadows of burning planets**

**The splitting breakers of foaming oceans**

**Your invisible paths going through raging storms**

**You spread like lightning flashes through my heart**

**And I grew in this darkness.'**

**-**   **Dilip Chitre**

**(* 1938 † 2009)**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Frozen Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer in Chapter one.
> 
> Author's note: My dear readers, finally a new chapter. It kinda was hard to write and I struggled with it for a while. Hope you enjoy reading it more than I did writing it at some points XD
> 
> In case you forgot: Amy Belby is an OC and no maincharacter. She had an appearance in first chapter as Tom wheedled the Founders' book out of her. She's a Ravenclaw and fell quite hard for Tom ;) aw, delusional girls, falling for Riddle *shakes head* Now, that's something that could never happen to me ⌐⌐ No, sir. lol

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

 

“I do not like nosy people digging into my life.”

 The polite smile on Tom’s handsome face didn’t quite fit the threatening wand in his hand.

 “I… I’m sorry, Tom,” Draco Malfoy stuttered shakily.

 He knelt before Tom on the floor. Dark red blood ran from the blond’s nose and he stared at Tom with fear in his grey eyes. Tom merely smiled at him indulgently. He didn’t lower his wand, though.

 “I see.”

 There was disappointment colouring Tom’s tone and it made Malfoy twitch fearfully. The blond’s hand trembled as he tried to wipe the blood from his face. He looked up at Tom pleadingly and quickly assured, desperation in his voice,

 “I was just being curious. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 Tom eyed the other Slytherin. A sadistic smirk played around his lips as he watched the fear he had created. Lazily he tapped his wand against his thigh and asked in a disgustingly friendly voice, 

 “So you ambushed Hermione in a dark corridor, stopped her from leaving and questioned her, but you did not _mean_ anything by it?”

 Frantically Malfoy shook his head. “I- I didn’t. Really. I just talked with her. A… a friendly conversation. I didn’t _question_ her.”

 “Surely you didn’t,” replied Tom, his words like sweet poison from his lips.

 He flicked his wand and a painful gasp left Malfoy. New blood ran from his nose and he groaned pathetically while he grasped his head, fingernails clawing in the skin at his temples. Tom snickered and lazily ended the curse. Malfoy shakily looked up at him. Abruptly, the false affability dropped from Tom’s features, replaced by a menacing glint in his blue eyes.

 “Listen, _Malfoy_ ,” he hissed, his voice twisted into a murderous threat. “Your nosiness is not appreciated at all. Should you ever try something like this again, you will pay.”

 Malfoy tensed anxiously. His face was deathly pale, traces of blood still visible on his skin. Fear lacing his tone, he avowed,

 “I- I won’t. I promise.”

Tom sneered at him. A flick of his pale wand and Malfoy was blasted away and crashed violently into a wooden wardrobe. The blond groaned painfully as he sagged down on the floor.

 “I hope you don’t,” Tom whispered, danger lurking in his tone. “For your sake.”

 Without waiting for any reply, he strode over to the exit from the dorm. Tom didn’t speak to anyone as he crossed the Slytherin common room. His dark magic still angrily stormed around him and he enjoyed how the other Slytherins shied away from him with fearful expressions.

 Tom smirked darkly as he left Slytherin domain and walked down the corridor towards the stairs. Hopefully this would teach Malfoy a lesson. If not, Tom would enjoy teaching him again. A pity that he still needed Malfoy. His family’s connections were too useful for Tom to simply get rid of Draco. He had to admit, though, Malfoy had been helpful with the next step of Tom’s plan.

 …and Tom always rewarded his helpers.

 An unsavoury smirk ghosted around his lips as his thoughts greedily danced around his plan. It had been so long in the making. Tom had come a long way since he had read Magick Moste Evile in his third year and had stumbled across the notion of Horcruxes. Oh, that had definitely peaked his interest. Now four years later, everything fell nicely into place. Ravenclaw’s Diadem was already in his possession and Tom was quite confident that sooner rather than later he would gather all four Founders’ objects.

 Tom reached the Moving Staircase and climbed the stairs. He nodded politely as he met Slughorn. His thoughts, though, still danced around his plan. Gathering all four Founders’ objects was merely the first step in Tom’s plan. The more important part came after that. Finally he would transcend the tragedy that was human life. Tom would turn the four objects into anchors, securing his body forever.

 After all, wasn’t five a very powerful magical number? According to alchemists the whole universe was built upon five elements: Water, earth, air, fire and ether. In the Dark Arts, the number five represented an incredibly potent source of magic, symbolised by the five-pointed star, the pentagram. It was a brilliant plan to use the four Founders’ objects. The Founders of Hogwarts had lived a thousand years ago and yet their names were immortal. With their help, Tom would join them in their immortality.

 Tom narrowed his eyes in anger as his triumph was, once again, spoilt by doubt creeping up on him. Ever since he secured Ravenclaw’s Diadem in Albania, ever since Hermione had _saved_ him from that stone statue’s attack, something had changed. Disgusting doubt had started to relentlessly fester in Tom and his plan – his wonderful plan – had lost its appeal. Fury stirred his magic and Tom balled his hands into angry fists. He didn’t know what had triggered these doubts, because he was normally not prone to indecisiveness. Still, was his plan the right thing to do?

 Should he really rip his soul into five parts?

 Tom irritably shook his head, trying to clear it. Four objects, five parts. He would be immortal, powerful, a legend. What held him back? There was no room and no reason for doubts. Tom’s eyes flared in a dangerous light as his doubts still leaked back into his thoughts. Five _was_ a very powerful number. Surely. Tom knew his plan already was ambitious. Still, this tiny little flaw in his plan didn’t want to leave him alone: _After all, isn’t seven the most powerfully magical number…?_

 “Tom?” a girl’s voice disturbed his thoughts.

 Tom turned around. A disgusted sneer begged to take shape on his face. Amy Belby stood before him. Tom forced a friendly smile and replied kindly,

 “Yes? Can I help you?”

 The Ravenclaw blinked a few times, obviously mustering courage. Tom, on the other hand, was only filled by annoyance. Finally the little wench found her voice and whispered timidly,

 “Tom… What happened?” Sadness wrapped sickeningly around her voice. “I- I thought we were… Before the Christmas break, you made the impression you _liked_ me…”

 Tom wanted nothing more than to grab the girl by her stupid hair and ram her face into the corridor wall until she finally shut up. Still, his control was perfect and he continued to smile at her blandly.

 “You know,” Amy continued beseechingly. “ _I_ really like you. I thought we had something… _special_.”

 Nausea crept up on Tom as he saw that ridiculous _hope_ daring to seep into her eyes. The Ravenclaw reached out for him and grasped his hand. A shudder of disgust overwhelmed Tom. Amy must have mistaken that bodily reaction for something else and smiled up at him.

 “I wrote you so many letters during the break,” she told him and blushed. “Did you not get them?”

 “No,” said Tom, his tone calm and controlled. “I’m afraid I did not.”

 “I see.”

 Now there were tears swimming in Amy’s eyes. Tom wanted to wrinkle his nose in revulsion. Such weakness. Amy tightened her fingers around his hand and looked up at him pleadingly.

 “I like being around you. I really do, Tom,” she breathed softly. Then she swallowed and asked timidly, “Why… why do you have a new girlfriend?”

 This was getting ridiculous. Did this girl really think he had ever considered _her_ to be his girlfriend? _Disgusting_. Tom didn’t reply because, frankly, he couldn’t be bothered. In face of his silence, the tears finally spilled over and rolled down Amy’s cheeks. Thankfully she let go of Tom’s hand and tried to wipe the tears away.

 “I can see that you like her,” Amy said, her voice chocked and soft. “But… please, Tom, I know you feel _something_ for me. We could be happy. Together.”

 Now, Tom was generally a patient man, but this Ravenclaw girl was testing him.

 “Can we at least talk?” asked Amy sadly.

 Tom wanted to hiss at her that he never talked to the likes of her, but then he changed his mind. He was a little stressed lately. Procuring the Founders’ objects wasn’t easy and there was no room for any mistakes. Malfoy had been a nice stress relief but not nearly enough. Tom peered at Amy and suddenly an ingratiating smile hovered around his mouth.

 “Yes, Amy,” he said charmingly. “We really should talk.”

 Relief crossed the girl’s face and Tom had to fight so his warm smile didn’t turn into the smirk it really was.

 “In here?” he suggested kindly and gestured at a near-by door.

 Amy nodded happily. Tom opened the door that led into an unused classroom and let Amy enter first. He followed her quickly and closed the door. Amy had wandered into the classroom and now scanned him with big innocent eyes. She hadn’t even noticed the silencing charms he’d spun around the room.

 “Tom?” she whispered while a soft smile hovered around her lips. “I don’t have anything against Hermione Rookwood. Please, believe me. I just…”

 She took a step towards him und fluttered her eyelashes at him. Hope glimmered in her eyes and Tom had to work to hide a sneer.

 “I just want to _be_ with you,” Amy whispered, her voice quivering. “Tom, please, come back to me. Give me a chance.”

 Tom pressed his lips together as he stared down at the pathetic girl. His self-restraint was breaking down and soon he couldn’t hold back anymore. Cruel, cold laughter filled the classroom. Amy’s eyes widened and she stared at Tom. His hand shook with his laughter and he was barely able to aim his wand. Tom still managed to send a disarming spell at the unsuspecting girl. With ease he fished her wand out of the air and slipped it into his pocket. Amy, still shocked by the Head Boy’s uncharacteristic behaviour, gasped and stumbled a step back.

 “What are you doing, Tom?” she asked, apprehension in her thin voice.

 A vile smile contorted Tom’s features as he looked at the confusion on Amy’s face. Then he sighed pityingly and shook his head.

 “Oh Merlin. How can you be so _stupid_?”

 Belby’s eyes widened and she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe he just said that. Tom snickered coldly. He took a step towards her until he towered over her. He could see the uneasiness slowly creeping up on her.

 “T- Tom?” Amy croaked weakly. “What’s w- wrong with you?”

 Tom scanned her with frosty blue eyes. He raised a hand and ran his index finger slowly over her cheek. Amy shuddered, fear flooding her eyes.

 “Nothing is wrong, Amy,” Tom purred, not bothering to hide the predatory tinge from his voice anymore.

 The girl gulped and shortly pressed her eyes shut. In amusement Tom watched as she gathered her courage.

 “Look,” she said in a quivering voice. “I don’t want you to break up with Rookwood… but… please, don’t just throw away what _we_ had, Tom.”

 Her earnest request was so horribly naïve. An evil glint blazing in his eyes, Tom whispered, thoroughly enjoying the destructiveness of his words,

 “Do I really have to write it down for you? The only thing I ever wanted from you, Amy, was the Founders’ book. Nothing else.”

 The girl gasped softly in face of this revelation. Tom didn’t care. Instead he smirked at her.

 “I needed that book.”

 He raised a hand and twirled a strand of Amy’s hair around his finger. She flinched away from him. Tom’s smirk widened and he snickered,

 “Not many people are allowed to get into the Ministry’s Archive. But I knew your father worked there.” Tom brushed his fingers over the girl’s cheek and sighed, mock pity twisting his voice, “Oh, Amy. It was embarrassingly easy to charm that book out of you.”

 Abruptly the girl took a step away from him. Disbelief was visible all over her plain face as she stared at Tom. He simply smiled back at her.

 “Y- you…” Amy stuttered. Then her voice grew firm with anger. “How _could_ you?! I trusted you!”

“Well,” Tom purred, cruelty hidden behind fake kindness. “It’s not my fault you’re pathetically gullible, now is it? I’m sure your daddy would be _so_ proud of you.”

 Disappointment and anger twisted Amy’s face as she glared at Tom. He gazed back at her, unimpressed.

 “I can’t believe this!” Amy yelled, her fury making her voice unpleasantly shrill. “This- this whole time, you _used_ me. You…” She wildly shook her head. “And to believe I even defended you as my friends warned me away from you.”

 “Poor Amy,” Tom scoffed viciously. “You should have trusted your friends. It seems this whole thing is your own fault.”

 “How can you stand there like… like nothing is wrong?!” Amy yelled, her voice shaky and hoarse with tears. “You son of a bitch!”

 “Can’t argue with that,” Tom replied, satisfied smirk on his face.

 “You know what, Tom Riddle?” the girl screeched. “I’m going to tell Dippet. I’m going to tell Slughorn and McGonagall and everybody who wants to hear that you stole that book from me.”

 A dark look crossed Tom’s face, but Amy didn’t notice. She angrily stomped to the exit door. Her hand already hovered over the doorknob, as she was harshly grabbed by her arm. A painful gasp left Amy’s mouth as Tom whirled her around and slammed her into the door. Surprised by his brutality, the girl’s frightened gaze flew up at him. Mercilessly Tom tightened his grip on her until she whimpered in pain. Then he bent down and whispered into her ear, voice cold as ice,

 “Not so fast, little girl. We are not yet finished.”

 “T-Tom,” Amy said fearfully. “Let go. Y-you are hurting me.”

 “Of course I am,” he spoke to her, his voice like velvet wrapped around an edge of steel. “It’s what drives me.”

 A fearful sob left Amy and she tried to wriggle away. It was futile, Tom would not let her go. Driven by an intoxicating feeling of power, Tom brutally grabbed the girl’s jaw. Then he forcefully pressed his mouth over hers. He could feel her hands pushing against his chest, desperately trying to make him stop. Her screams of protest were muffled as he engaged her in a painful kiss. Mercilessly he bit her lips until blood flowed down her chin. He enjoyed the taste of her blood and fear.

“Stop,” Amy cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please, please, stop.”

 Her plea only made him snicker cruelly. His fingers had twisted themselves into her hair, tugging harshly. Her whole body now trembled in delicious fear.

 “Why should I?” Tom purred sadistically. “Isn’t this what you always wanted, Amy love? Some private time with _me_?”

 She frantically shook her head, barely able to contain her sobs. Tom’s hands had long since left her hair. They lazily skimmed over her vulnerable body. For a moment Tom’s fingers danced over her breasts, his touch forcing another sob from Amy. Then his hands wandered further down, until his fingers brutally bit into the soft flesh of her thighs. Ruthlessly he wrenched at her, spreading her legs.

 “Hm,” Tom drawled, malicious intent in his dark voice. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

 “No!” Amy screamed, terror in her voice. “Get away! Get away! Get away!”

 A cold heartless snicker left Tom’s lips as he let go of her. The girl sagged against the wall in a crying, sobbing mess. Revulsion crept up on Tom.

 “Please,” he told her condescendingly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

 His cold blue eyes wandered over the trembling girl. He bent down to her and revelled in the fact that she fearfully recoiled from him. Then he hissed into her ear, voice frozen over with malice,

 “You really think I would waste my time fucking someone like you?”

 The girl flinched at his harsh words but Tom continued, “I would never be able to scrub your filth off my body.”

 Tears streamed down Amy’s face as she sobbed uncontrollably. She could only cry, “Please, let me go. Please.”

 “Not before I’ve exhausted your entertainment value,” was Tom’s merciless reply.

 Lazily he whirled his wand and whispered, “Crucio.”

 Amy crashed down on the floor. Her body twisted and turned in grotesque angles and Tom thoroughly enjoyed watching it. A blissful smile adorned his face as he observed the girl’s agony. Her screams echoed magnificently in the classroom. Tom closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Then he breathed in deeply. The girl’s screams still cut through the silence and Tom felt liberated.

 As he ended the curse, Amy cried desperately, “Please… Stop…”

 She still lay on the floor, her body trembling all over. Tom could see tears glistening on her cheeks as she stared up at him, pure terror in her eyes. He squatted down and Amy whimpered fearfully in his close proximity. Tom smiled comfortingly down at her and gently skimmed his fingers over her cheeks, wiping away the tears.

 “Shh,” Tom soothed gingerly. “Don’t cry, Amy.”

 The girl shuddered under his touch. Her voice was rough with tears as she begged, “Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

 Tom raised his hand and admired her tears which now clung to his fingers. Then he opened his mouth and slowly licked over his index finger. With his eyes closed he moaned softly as he could taste the salty tears on his tongue.

 Through hooded eyes Tom glanced down at Amy. Horror and disgust were clearly visible on her face as she stared at him. It made him smirk, his white teeth flashing dangerously. Abruptly Tom stood up and once again towered over his victim. As he raised his wand a frightened cry left Amy’s mouth. Encouraged by her fear, Tom whirled his wand.

 “Crucio.”

 Rapturously Tom observed how Amy twisted and convulsed in pain. His eyes glowed with a malicious light. _Ah, the advantages of the Torture Curse,_ Tom mused with sick fondness. Truly the Cruciatus Curse was a thing of beauty.

 After a while he flicked his wand and ended the curse. Amy’s agonized screams slowly turned into sobs and she curled into a painful ball. With his foot, Tom shoved her cruelly so Amy ended up lying on her back. Fat tears rolled from her puffy red eyes as Tom smirked at her.

 “It was a pleasure,” he said, the kind tone of his voice contrasting sharply with the sadistic glint in his eyes.

 Then Tom again brandished his wand, sending a simple Stupefy at the girl. Amy lost consciousness as soon as the red light made contact with her chest. Tom scanned her for a moment before he whispered softly,

 “Obliviate.”

 This little piece of magic would take all memories of this incident from Amy. A cruel smirk slid on Tom’s face. The spell would only take memories, not emotions. Amy might not be able to remember this encounter, but the delicious fear Tom had evoked in her would not leave. From now on, Amy Belby would be haunted by an inexplicable terror whenever she saw him …whenever someone spoke his name.

 An unsavoury smile distorted Tom’s handsome features. He carelessly tossed Amy’s wand on the floor, then he left the classroom. An easy, innocent smile on his lips, Tom sauntered to the Heads’ common room. After all, there still was that Transfiguration essay he had to write.

 

†

 

With a cheerful smile on her face, Hermione entered the Heads’ common room. Charms class had been positively enlightening today. She looked very much forward to researching more about the charms Professor Flitwick had introduced today. Still smiling broadly, Hermione spotted Tom sitting on the sofa.

 “Hey, Tom,” she greeted mirthfully.

 Dragging a schoolbag full of books over to the sofa, she plopped down beside the Head Boy. He was scribbling away on a roll of parchment. Hermione craned her neck to see what he was writing. _Transfiguration essay_ , she realized. Hermione had already finished that essay yesterday. A rather smug smile curved her lips. Her gaze left Tom’s essay and instead wandered to his face. As her eyes dropped to his chin, the smugness quickly left her.

 “Oh, did you hurt yourself?” Hermione asked in concern.

 “What?” Tom looked at her, confused.

 Hermione reached for her robe pocket and pulled a handkerchief. Cautiously she raised it to his chin and rubbed a small blotch of dried blood away.

 “Oh,” said Tom as he eyed the handkerchief.

A strange look crossed his face, as if he were amused by the sight of the blood. An eerie dark light in his blue eyes made chills darting down Hermione’s spine. Then the expression was gone and Tom simply smiled at her.

 “I must have cut myself while shaving.”

 Hermione brushed away the uneasy feeling that had bubbled up in her. Instead she reached for her wand and asked eagerly,

 “Do you want me to heal it? I know the perfect spell.”

 The smile still curved Tom’s lips as he gazed at her amusedly. “No, that’s not necessary.”

 Disappointed, Hermione put the wand away.

 “It’s the Episkey Spell,” she told him sullenly. “We looked into it during Charms.”

 Tom cocked an eyebrow. Hermione took that as an invitation to go on. So she explained, a smile fighting its way on her face,

 “It’s a Healing Spell. Really useful, but only for minor injuries. It can heal cuts and even some fractures in bones.”

 Hermione leaned comfortably back in the sofa and continued her story. Tom had by now returned to his Transfiguration essay but she didn’t really care whether he was listening or not.

“I think I’m going to look more into Healing Spells,” she merrily gushed on. “I don’t think they teach any Healing Magic at Hogwarts. Most of them are really complex.”

 Hermione continued to list healing spells she wanted to learn and lectured about their advantages and disadvantages. All the while Tom worked on his essay. It was a good while later, and Hermione had almost exhausted her list of spells, that he spoke again. Tom put his quill away and casually rolled up his parchment.

 “There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up,” he stated in his deep velvety voice,

 Hermione was pulled away from her healing magic and raised her eyebrows at him. Tom ignored her and said,

 “I have to take care of something important during that weekend and it requires your help. So don’t go and make any plans with your little friends.”

  “I can’t go to Hogsmeade anyway,” Hermione said listlessly,

 “Oh? And why not?” inquired Tom loftily.

“Because I’d need permission from a guardian,” she replied morosely.

“Really? How do you know? Are you suddenly an expert of Hogwarts’ rules?”

Hermione harrumphed and lectured him condescendingly, “For your information, I read Hogwarts: A History. I know _everything_ now. By the way-” She gestured at the bookshelf near-by. “-even the Head Boy is _not_ allowed to take books from the Restricted Section of the library. You really should return them.”

“Is that so?” Tom snickered before he supplied, “Anyway, Hermione Rookwood is seventeen. So you don’t need a guardian for anything anymore. You’re off age and are allowed to go to Hogsmeade.”

Hermione’s eyes widened with pleasant surprise and she blurted excitedly. “So I _can_ go to Hogsmeade? That’s brilliant. When’s that Hogsmeade weekend coming up again?”

Tom merely smirked at her and tsked, “I told you I have other plans.”

Hermione glanced at him, disappointment crossing her face. “What plans?”

Tom flashed her a smile. “We need to go to Cornwall.”

 “Why?” She frowned at him in bewilderment.

“You disappoint me, Hermione,” he informed haughtily. “I believe I told you about Hepzibah Smith and the locket?”

Realization dawned on Hermione’s face and she sat up straighter on the couch. Disappointment over her lost Hogsmeade weekend forgotten, she eyed Tom excitedly.

“The locket? Wasn’t that one of the Founders’ objects?”

Tom inclined his head. “Yes. Slytherin’s Locket. As of now, it still is with Hepzibah Smith.” A sinister smirk appeared on his face. “I intend to steal it.”

“What?!” Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

“Let me correct that,” Tom purred conceitedly. “ _You_ will steal it for me.”

As Hermione could only blink at him in outrage, he continued easily, “Smith lives in her family’s old manor down in Cornwall. Unfortunately that manor is protected by a lot of wards.”

“And you… want _me_ to break them?” Hermione whispered feebly.

“Merlin, no,” Tom replied amusedly. “The wards are centuries old and quite powerful. It would be too risky trying to bypass them. You’d have Aurors swarming around you in seconds.”

Hermione shook her head in confusion. “Then what do you want me to do?”

Tom reached for his robe and pulled an envelope from the breast pocket. Hermione recognized the envelope. Draco had given it to him a few days ago in the Slytherin common room. Tom handed her the envelope and explained,

“The Smiths are an ancient and very powerful family. Hepzibah, being the only living descendant, is rather influential. In two weeks, Smith is hosting a soiree. Obviously the political and financial elite will be attending this party. It’s a huge thing”

Tom slid a bit closer to Hermione and threw her a smug smile. “During the soiree the manor’s wards won’t completely disappear, but they will be cut down a bit.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “So, you want to use the occasion to break into the manor?”

“Exactly,” Tom said contently. 

He gestured for Hermione to open the envelope. She obeyed and pulled a piece of parchment out. Her gaze skimmed over the parchment while Tom explained,

“On the parchment you find a list of the caterers responsible for food, drinks and entertainment.”

Tom reached over and pointed to one name on the list. Clutterbuck Crispe’s, Hermione read.

“See here? This one’s mainly responsible for providing staff such as waiters.” He glanced at Hermione. “You can probably guess who those servants are going to be.”

“Mudbloods?” replied Hermione warily.

Tom nodded. “This is where you come in Hermione. You are going to pose as one of those Mudbloods from Crispe’s. With that, you’ll be able to enter the manor’s wards without a problem. As soon as you’re inside, you’ll search for the locket and bring it to me.”

Hermione stared down at the parchment in her hand and swallowed thickly. Tom wanted her to sneak in by pretending to be one of Crispe’s Mudbloods? To then… _raid_ the manor? Hermione’s stomach knotted uncomfortably. She glanced up at Tom and said tentatively,

“I- I don’t think I can do this. Why don’t you do it? Draco said he could get you an invite.”

“Don’t be silly,” Tom snapped. “As soon as the locket is missing, everyone is a suspect. Aurors will look into everybody on the guest list. I can’t possibly risk that. Between the Minister of Magic and myself, who do you think they will suspect first?”

“B- but won’t they trace it back to me?” Hermione stuttered fearfully.

“No,” Tom replied carelessly. “You are just another nameless Mudblood. After the deed is done, you’ll simply disappear. No-one will remember your face. Even if, they won’t draw the connection to Hermione Rookwood. With the Polyjuice, you don’t even look the same.”

Hermione looked up at him pleadingly. “Please, Tom. I really don’t think I can pull this off.”

Tom’s gaze turned hard as stone. Not a shred of compassion was visible on his cold face, only anger ghosted around his handsome features.

“You belong to me, Hermione,” he told her sharply. “I am not _asking_ you to do this.”

As Hermione heard that relentless edge of authority in Tom’s tone, she tensed up. Her Dark Mark burned forebodingly and she instantly bowed her head, eyes cast down. Years of experience at Malfoy manor had taught her how to react in such situations. Hermione just wanted to open her mouth and relent as a thought hit her.

 _This isn’t Malfoy manor_.

Warily she peered up at Tom. He _wasn’t_ Draco. That realisation drove Hermione to do something she had never done before: She argued back.

“D- do you know what you are asking of me?”

A dangerous frown appeared between Tom’s eyebrows and he snapped caustically, “You can’t refuse.”

Hermione breathed in deeply as his anger washed over her but she still dared to move on and explained cautiously, “Breaking and entering… stealing from a witch. If they catch me, I’ll get… I’ll get executed.”

Hermione nervously fiddled with the hem of her robes as she looked up at Tom. If she had dared to talk to Draco like this, he would have instantly cursed her. Hermione was glad that Tom hadn’t yet done that, still there was a dark glint in his eyes. He glared at her for a moment and Hermione feared he would lash out at her. After a while, though, Tom merely sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His ice blue eyes flicked back to her and he asked in a surprisingly calm voice,

“Do you trust me, Hermione?”

She was taken aback by the sudden request and could only stutter, “Er… I’m not… I guess, I think so… yes?”

Tom nodded, satisfied. Then he leaned a bit towards her and said, a pleasant warmth to his voice, “Then you have to trust me in this. Believe me, my plans never fail.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently into his side. “You don’t have to worry. No-one will catch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

Tom’s closeness and his comforting arm around her made Hermione feel inclined to believe him. She had never felt safer with a wizard. Shakily she smiled up at him and nodded her head.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Instantly there was a warm smile on Tom’s face. With that smile he looked even more handsome. Hermione nestled against him and put her head down on his chest. She completely missed the triumphant sheen flaring up in Tom’s eyes. It twisted his whole expression into something else entirely.

 

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

 

It was a few days after Tom revealed his plan to Hermione that she sat in the Great Hall, having breakfast. Hermione still thoroughly enjoyed how she could sit at the Gryffindor table and just eat whatever she wanted. Her plate was filled with scrambled eggs, sausages and tomato slices. Hermione had borrowed a Daily Prophet from someone and smiled happily as she studied the paper. Her eyes grew wide with wonder as she stumbled about an especially interesting article.

 

**_The Order of the Phoenix strikes again_ **

_The terrorist group known as the ‘Order of the Phoenix’ once again makes an appearance. This time, the group targeted the Snatchers’ district office in South London. Yesterday between 10 and 11 p.m. members of the Order, armed with their wands, broke into the building. Using extreme force, those unknown men overpowered the Snatchers’ night shift before they proceeded to break open the holding cells to release a batch of Mudblood children back into the Muggle world. Luckily none of the Snatcher officers got injured during this terrorist attack but the loss of livestock and the resulting financial damage is considerable. (For more information read pg. 9 to 11)_

 

In wonder Hermione stared down at the newspaper article. She had never heard of something like this. The Order of the Phoenix? _Incredible_. A group of wizards who fought to free Mudbloods? Contemplatively Hermione threw a glance at Tom. He sat at the Slytherin table, sipping from a cup of tea. She wondered if he was a member of the Order. After all, Tom was the first wizard she ever met who was nice to her. He even allowed her to go to school.

“Hermione?”

Hermione blinked and turned her head. She found Ginny Weasley smiling at her. The red-head amicably patted her on the shoulder and said,

“Class is starting. Wanna walk together?”

Hermione smiled at her friend and nodded. Ron, who sat a few seats away, crammed half a sandwich into his mouth before he got up and followed the two girls out of the Great Hall.

“Bah,” Ron said around the sandwich in his mouth. “History’s next. I _hate_ History.”

Hermione threw him a reproachful look but silently conceded. Ginny smirked gleefully and announced,

“Thank Merlin, I’m in sixth year. I’ve Transfiguration.”

Ron shrugged. “Not much better.”

Chatting animatedly, the group climbed a flight of stairs and strolled through the second floor’s corridors. Hermione stopped as she spotted a girls’ toilet near-by.

“Go on without me,” she told her friends. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Before she could walk over to the toilet, a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Confused, Hermione turned and looked at Ginny. Grim expression on her face, Ginny said,

“You shouldn’t use _that_ toilet.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. Shortly she glanced at the toilet’s door. Then she looked back at Ginny in question.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Ginny shook her head and whispered tentatively, “You really wouldn’t wanna go in there. There’s a ghost.”

It didn’t clear up Hermione’s bewilderment. Raising her eyebrows at Ginny’s strange behaviour, she stated,

“What’s so bad about a ghost. There’re loads of ghosts in Hogwarts.”

Ron, who had stepped to his sister, sported the same uncharacteristic glum expression. His voice, too, was strangely serious as he said,

“Yeah. But trust us, you wouldn’t wanna meet Nagging Neville.”

“Who?” inquired Hermione cautiously.

“Nagging Neville,” repeated Ginny. “He’s the ghost that haunts the girls’ toilet.”

“…okay,” said Hermione slowly. “I can see why a male ghost isn’t so much fun in a girls’ toilet. But… it’s not that bad.”

She eyed her two friends in suspicion. Both Weasleys were still weirdly subdued. They threw pointed looks at each other, before Ron cleared his throat and explained,

“Well, Neville… He got murdered in there.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and exclaimed, “Oh Merlin. Murdered?! Are you sure?”

Ginny nodded and said darkly, “Yeah. The worst part is, it happened not that long ago. Only two years, in fact.”

Hermione’s gaze flew back to the girls’ toilet. Trepidation mounted up in her as she eyed the innocent looking door. Someone got murdered? She swallowed nervously. Ron gently grabbed her arm and led her away from the scene of crime.

“Poor bloke,” he said gravely. “He was a Hufflepuff. Our year. I didn’t know him well, but he really was an okay guy.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Hermione gingerly. “It must have been horrible. What… what happened to him?”

“No-one really knows,” Ron replied sombrely. “Neville was found dead in the bathroom. The teachers said some kind of animal must have got him.”

Hermione’s eyes widened with surprise. “An animal. Inside the castle? Did they find it?”

“Yes,” continued Ron. “They actually did. It was an Erumpent.”

“That’s… that’s…” stuttered Hermione. “…impossible. An erumpent? But… they are really dangerous. How could it get in here? They live in Africa…”

Ron sighed and grabbed Hermione’s hand. He held it gently as he supplied, “It was only a small one. A baby. Apparently a student illegally raised it in the castle. One day it escaped and… poor Neville had to pay for it.”

Ginny, who had been suspiciously silent, snorted as she heard her brother’s explanation. Anger twisted her voice as she hissed,

“That’s bull, and you know it, Ron!”

Ron looked at his sister, silent apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Gin. I know she was your friend. But she shouldn’t have kept the Erumpent.”

Ginny gruffly shrugged his arm away from her before she cried furiously, “Luna is _not_ responsible for Neville’s death.”

“Ginny, calm down,” Ron said soothingly, still taking a cautious step away from his angry sister. “We know you like Luna. And I’m pretty sure the whole thing was an accident, but Neville’s dead. I think Luna should be grateful that she only got expelled. It could have been worse for her.”

Ginny glared mutinously at her brother. Hermione, who had followed the whole conversation, now asked timidly,

“How can you be sure it was that girl, Luna?”

Ginny sent her a grateful glance and replied, “That’s exactly it. There’s no real evidence.”

Hermione frowned. “And she still got expelled?”

Ginny nodded, fury in her pretty eyes. “Yeah. Even her wand got snapped.”

Hermione flinched at the notion. She knew how horrible it could be without a wand.

“Luckily, Luna could stay at Hogwarts,” Ginny continued. “Professor Trelawney took her in as an assistant.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. She knew Trelawney was the Divination professor. Hermione had never visited any of her classes. Apparently Tom was of the opinion that Divination was a waste of time. Pursing her lips, Hermione glanced at Ginny and inquired cautiously,

“How do they know it really was your friend’s Erumpent that killed Neville?”

Ginny pressed her mouth into a thin line as if she had to fight to hold back an especially sharp reply. She released a long breath of air, before she answered, bitterness lacing her voice,

“Maybe you should ask your boyfriend.”

“Tom?” Hermione said, completely surprised. “What does _he_ have to do with this?”

Ginny’s expression grew even darker as the conversation hovered around Tom. Before her volatile temper got the better of her, Ron replied hastily,

“Riddle was the one who captured Luna and found the Erumpent.”

“He even got an award for it.” Ginny spat, fury twisting her voice. “The liar! As if Luna could be the Heir of Slytherin.”

Hermione warily glanced at the angry red-head. “Heir of Slytherin?”

“Before Neville was killed, there were a few nasty incidents where students got injured. It was rather creepy actually,” Ron explained cautiously. “People started to think it was the revenge of the Heir of Slytherin. It’s an old myth, Salazar Slytherin left a monster in Hogwarts. A monster that only his heir can control.”

 

†

 

Hermione was still rather shaken from the news about that boy’s – Neville’s – murder as she sat in her next class. History of Magic, though, was so annoying that soon indignation over Carrow’s lecture drove away all thoughts about the Heir of Slytherin. Dark look on her face, Hermione clasped her quill angrily. She glanced at her seat neighbour. Tom was listening attentively to the professor but Hermione knew he could pull that look off even when he was daydreaming away.

“Of course we have Grindelwald to thank for that,” Carrow’s nasty voice echoed through the classroom.

The professor stood before her class and smiled sharply. She raised her thin eyebrows and quizzed, “Does anyone know how Grindelwald got the Mudblood problem under control? Ms Patil?”

Parvati tensed and looked at Carrow, wide-eyed. “Erm… he… Grindelwald founded the Department of Bloodlines?”

“That is correct,” Carrow purred sweetly. “In 1947 Grindelwald opened the Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines. Since then, every witch and wizard needs to be registered with this department. Thus it is possible to clearly keep the line between Purebloods and the Mudbloods we so graciously allow into our world.”

 _Graciously?_ Hermione thought angrily. She gritted her teeth as she stared at the smug smile on Carrow’s face. The professor lazily leaned against her desk and continued sanctimoniously,

“Without us, Mudbloods would be stranded in the Muggle world, completely over-challenged with their limited magical power. They would hurt themselves and the people around them. By welcoming them in our world, we are saving them.”

 _I suppose I should thank you then_. The bitter sarcasm rang through Hermione’s head while her _‘limited’_ magic began to stir angrily.

“The Department for Bloodlines is essential for keeping our blood clean from Mudblood influences,” Carrow’s annoying voice lectured. “While it simultaneously allows us to save the Mudbloods from a miserable existence in the Muggle world.”

In a fit of rage, Hermione pressed her quill too tightly into the parchment, piercing a hole. The professor remained to be oblivious to Hermione’s frustration and smiled sweetly at her class. Rosier raised his hand and Carrow nodded at him invitingly.

“Was it also Grindelwald’s idea to use Mudbloods as slaves?” he asked curiously.

The terribly sweet smile on Carrow’s face even widened at her student’s request.

“Now now, Mr Rosier,” she chastised lightly. “Mudbloods are certainly no slaves.”

As she heard that Hermione threw in a scandalized breath of air. Luckily Carrow didn’t notice but instead happily declared,

“We gladly welcome them into our world and give them a place in our society.”

She slightly shook her head and threw an indulgent smile at Rosier. Hermione felt sick as she saw the nasty glint in Carrow’s eyes.

“Mudbloods are quite helpless without wizards instructing them,” the woman continued. “By no means are they slaves. No. You have to see them more like children. They need someone to lead them, to watch after them and, sometimes, to discipline them.”

Hermione’s magic gave another angry budge and she would have loved to pull her wand and curse that wretched woman. She already trembled with supressed fury and could feel her magic slipping away. Hints of it bristled dangerously in the air around Hermione. Before she completely lost control, she felt a sharp pain in her Dark Mark. Hermione winced and yelped softly, the shock making her anger break down. She turned her head and glanced at Tom beside her. He stared at her with his piercing blue eyes. There was no emotion visible on his blank face but he almost imperceptively shook his head. Hermione gulped before she lowered her head.

“Ms Rookwood?” Carrow announced.

Hermione’s eyes shot to the teacher. With mounting anxiety she realized that Carrow had noticed something. The professor narrowed her eyes at Hermione before she asked sternly,

“Have you been paying attention?”

Immediately Hermione nodded. “Yes, Professor.”

Carrow pursed her lips in contemplation and asked suspiciously, “Then I’m sure you can tell me how Mudbloods got treated _before_ Grindelwald’s reform.”

Hermione nervously looked up at the professor. Her Dark Mark still hurt dully. Shakily Hermione admitted,

“I- I don’t know, Professor.”

For a second Carrow’s hard gaze bored into Hermione. Then, unexpectedly, the stern expression dropped from the teacher’s face and she smiled kindly.

“Very good, Ms Rookwood,” she praised, eyes sparkling fondly at Hermione. “Take five points for Gryffindor.” Turned to the whole class, Carrow pronounced, “How Mudbloods got treated before Grindelwald was an utter disgrace. You would do well by following Ms Rookwood’s example and forget that blot on the history of our great nation.”

On top of her anger and confusion, Hermione now felt dirty. She pressed her mouth in a thin line and stared at Carrow. She wanted to take those five points and shove them down the woman’s throat.

Throughout the rest of the class Hermione’s mood didn’t lift at all. It became even worse as, after Carrow had concluded the class, she stopped Hermione before she could leave.

“Ms Rookwood? Please, stay behind.”

Glumly Hermione waited by the teacher’s desk as the class filed out of the room. As the other students had left, Carrow’s attention fell on Hermione. For a moment the professor scrutinized Hermione, making the other squirm uncomfortably. Finally Carrow implied,

“I’ve seen you talking with Lupin, Ms Rookwood...”

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. “Yes?”

A horribly twisted form of concern ghosted over Carrow’s face before she simpered, “I know that you come from a respectable family. Why, the Rookwood name goes way back.”

Hermione’s skin crawled but she still forced a smile on her face. “Of course, Professor.”

An eerie smile on her face, Carrow said with false worry, “Seeing you with Lupin is quite…“ The woman shuddered theatrically before she advised, “It’s best for you to stay away from that man. Believe me, you do not want to be associated with people like him.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione fought to keep the indignation from her tone.

Carrow took a step towards her and whispered conspiratorially, “Lupin has a very dubious family background.”

“Is that so?” Hermione pressed through gritted teeth.

The professor nodded importantly. “Yes. Rumour has it that he is a _Halfblood_.”

“Only rumour, though?”

A devious smirk slid on Carrow’s face. “More an open secret, actually.”

The woman ran a hand over Hermione’s arm in a display of faux care. “His mother, Annabel Lupin, was a witch. Shady character, though she was. Developed a disgustingly close relationship with one of her _male_ Mudbloods. She was never married but still gave birth to a child.”

“Remus Lupin?” asked Hermione cautiously.

Carrow nodded. A dark flash passed her eyes and she suggested nastily, “Now, one _may_ wonder who the father of that child was. Because no-one really knows. Annabel paid her way out of further investigations by the Department of Bloodlines.”

“Why are you telling me this, Professor?” Hermione said, unable to ban all coldness from her voice.

The indulgent smile was back on Carrow’s face as she assured, “I am just a concerned teacher looking out for my pupils. I don’t want filth like Lupin to taint you.”

She squeezed Hermione’s arm in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture but only made cold chills darting down Hermione’s spine.

“Now, run along,” Carrow chirped lightly. “I don’t want to deter you any longer.”

 

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

 

Two weeks later, worries about Carrow or any heirs of Slytherin were far from Hermione’s mind. Feeling incredibly jumpy, she scurried after Tom through a small village in Cornwall. It was a rather nice village, close to the sea and obviously a tourist magnet during summer time. Hermione, though, couldn’t appreciate the beauty of her surroundings. She had kind of hoped Tom would change his mind about stealing Slytherin’s Locket. Unfortunately he hadn’t and that was the reason for them being in this village now. It was also the reason for Hermione being back in her true form. Yesterday had been the last time she had taken Polyjuice potion and by now it had completely worn off.

“What if a Professor notices we are gone?” Hermione asked Tom anxiously.

In contrast to her, the Slytherin was calm and relaxed. Nonchalantly carrying a backpack over one shoulder, Tom grinned at her.

“Don’t worry. Everything is taken care of.”

Hermione frowned at him and insisted, “You are Head Boy. What if someone needs something from you? Like Dippet?”

Tom simply draped a comforting arm around her waist and supplied, “There’s still the Head Girl. And my… _friends_ will cover for us.”

Hermione wasn’t satisfied at all. The grin on Tom’s face widened as he took in her sour mood. He raked his fingers through her long curly hair and whispered seductively,

“I quite like having the old Hermione back.”

Hermione blushed fiercely und felt very self-conscious as Tom’s heated gaze wandered over her.

“Come on.”

Tom gently nudged her forwards and towards one of the village’s cosy terrace houses. _Bed and Breakfast,_ a sign pronounced. Hermione stepped reluctantly over to the entrance. Her hand wandered to her left forearm and nervously clenched around it. The Dark Mark was hidden under her pullover sleeve. Now that she was back in her old body, should she again behave like a Mudblood? Hermione wondered glumly whether she should reveal her mark, like Mudbloods were supposed to do in public.

Tom, having seen her nervousness, told her, “This is a Muggle inn. So don’t worry about your mark.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up as she heard it. “A _Muggle_ inn…?”

Tom chuckled and opened the door, letting her enter first. Hermione felt rather tense as she entered the B&B. She wasn’t at all comfortable with Tom’s plan to break into Smith’s manor. Hermione felt horribly jittery as she waited for Tom to get the room key. Silently she followed him up a flight of narrow stairs to their room. Tom opened it and Hermione hesitantly followed him into the room. It was small but nice and clean. White floor-length curtains hung by the window and moved softly with the wind. A twin-bed stood in the middle of the room. On the bedside table Hermione spied an electric kettle and cups for tea. The thought that Ron’s dad would like this very much shortly flashed through her head. Hermione glanced at Tom. He had crossed the room and looked out the window, scanning the terrain. Cautiously Hermione stepped over to him. His starkly blue eyes shortly flicked over her.

“See that house over there?” Tom asked, pointing at a hill a distance away. “That’s Smith manor.”

Hermione frowned. She could see where the village ended but on the hill a bit further away was no house.

“I can’t see anything.”

Tom arched an elegant eyebrow at her. “Really?”

He reached for his wand and lazily waved it over her. Hermione gasped as she could see a huge manor house materializing on that hill. Seeing her reaction, Tom nodded, satisfied.

“Well, there’s a lot of Muggle in you,” he told her haughtily. “Maybe that’s why you couldn’t see past the Muggle repellent charms.”

Hermione felt a little hurt by the condescending touch in his voice, but didn’t say anything.

“We have roughly an hour before the caterers arrive,” stated Tom’s silky voice. “You should get ready.”

Hermione peered up at him and nodded. Tom grabbed his backpack. After poking through it he pulled a cloth from it. Tossing it to Hermione, he ordered gruffly,

“Get changed.”

“Yes, Tom.”

Glumly Hermione peered at the cloth in her hands. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a knee-length baggy dress. It was an ugly, non-descript shade of blue. Hermione swallowed down an unpleasant feeling as she looked at the uniform. Aside from the colour, it looked a lot like the dress she had been forced to wear in Malfoy manor. Feeling rather shaky, Hermione disappeared into the bathroom.

It felt like she was shedding more than her clothes as she slipped out of her jeans and pullover. Very reluctantly she put them away and reached for the blue dress with shaky hands. Nausea bubbled in her stomach as she slipped the ugly dress over her head.

Before she left the bathroom, Hermione’s eyes flicked to the mirror. She felt a painful twinge in her chest as she stared at her reflection. All traces of ‘Hermione Rookwood’ had disappeared. Hermione hadn’t seen her real face in weeks. Now it stared back at her. Bushy long hair, brown eyes and pale skin. The blue dress hung from her thin frame, looking more like a hospital gown than anything else. It had short sleeves and did not cover the Dark Mark. Cold chills ran down Hermione’s spine as she stared at the mark. She wanted to scream for ‘Ms Rookwood’ to come back, because all that was left right now was Penny, the slave girl.

Tom lounged on the bed but got up as Hermione left the bathroom. A smirk ghosted around his lips as he stepped over to her. Hermione felt horribly exposed as she stood in front of Tom with her ugly dress while he looked handsome as ever in his sleek clothes. Slowly something constricted around her chest. Dressed like this and with her mark exposed, Hogwarts was nothing but a dream and Hermione was harshly thrown back into her past at Malfoy manor. 

Tom’s icy blue eyes slowly wandered over her body, taking everything in. Hermione’s lower lip quivered slightly. With her memories of Malfoy manor spooking through her head, it was painfully easy to slip back into the old routine. Hermione lowered her head and servilely bowed to Tom. He still didn’t say anything. Slowly he circled her, his soft steps muffled by the thick carpet. Suddenly there were two hands on Hermione’s shoulders and she flinched. Tom stood directly behind her, so close that she could feel his chest against her back. He leaned down to her and Hermione shuddered involuntarily as she could smell his cologne.

“Don’t fall back into your Mudblood-mode,” Tom whispered into her ear, his seductive voice sending goose bumps all over her. “I need you tonight, Hermione.”

He placed a soft kiss on the skin right under her ear. Subconsciously, Hermione tilted her head to grant him better access. Tom’s hands left her shoulders and slipped down. One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him, while his other hand clasped her left forearm. Hermione’s Dark Mark tingled as it was in direct contact with its master’s skin. It didn’t hurt. On the contrary, it was quite a pleasant feeling as Tom’s magic washed over her tattooed skin. Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as she felt Tom placing more kisses on her neck.

“You are _not_ going in there to serve those Purebloods,” Tom’s silky voice crooned. “You are going to steal from them.”

Hermione’s eyes were still closed and as she felt his soft lips wandering over her skin, she was able to forget the blue uniform she was wearing. She relaxed and allowed herself to lean into the body behind her.

 

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

 

**‘My times of hope were cast in shade**

**And pleasure dimmed by longing,**

**For it was then an evil genius**

**Began to pay me secret visits.**

**Our meetings were quite dolorous:**

**His smile, his glance mysterious,**

**His venom-filled and caustic sermons**

**Poured frozen poison in my soul.’**

**\- Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin**

**(* 1799 †1837)**

 

 

 


	16. Cold Iron

Hermione followed Tom through the village's streets. A disillusionment charm was woven over him so that he was almost completely invisible. Nervously, Hermione's fingers clasped the hem of Tom's jumper, afraid to lose him. A Muggle repellent charm tickled uncomfortably over her own skin. Tom had cast it on her and she could understand his reasoning, Hermione decided as she reluctantly eyed her ragged clothes. Unfortunately, she was still wearing that filthy blue dress. It wouldn't do for any Muggles spotting her in such attire. Sullenly, Hermione followed Tom, dragging her feet. Her mood wasn't elevated at all by the prospect of having to infiltrate Hepzibah Smith's manor.

"We're almost there," informed Tom in a deep voice.

Hermione didn't reply, but grabbed him tighter. Something constricted around her throat and the closer they came to Smith manor the worse it got. Tom, having no such reservations, supplied lightly,

"I assume that Smith keeps the locket somewhere in the upper floors. As soon as you enter the manor, see that you can get away from the others and slip upstairs."

Hermione gnawed at her lower lip and whispered, "Yes, Tom."

"If you are lucky," Tom informed languidly. "You can get out of there even before the first guests arrive."

"Yes, Tom," she repeated mechanically, slightly annoyed by the calmness in his voice.

They followed a lane out of the village that curved up the hill towards the manor.

"I'll be waiting in our room at the B&B," Tom continued. "After you got the locket, leave the manor and come back to me."

Hermione furrowed her brow. He made it all sound so easy. Then again it wasn't him who had to break into Hepzibah's private rooms. Hermione's stomach churned at the thought.

"One thing," Tom said and stopped walking.

Hermione promptly ran into him as he was still invisible. He ignored her clumsiness and instead ordered,

"Give me your wand."

Hermione's eyes grew wide and she whispered fearfully, "You don't want me to go in there without a wand, do you?"

When Tom didn't reply, she shakily pulled out her wand and held it out for him. He took it from her. Before Tom's disillusionment charm could latch onto the wand, he flourished it in an elegant movement. Instantly, the wand's colour changed from light brown to the bright red of a capped wand only a Mudblood would use. Hermione watched in surprise as he then offered her the wand. As she took it with a trembling hand, Tom instructed assertively,

"If possible, don't use the wand at all. It would draw unnecessary attention to you."

"Yes, Tom." Hermione nodded and stowed her wand away.

She was relieved that he hadn't taken her only weapon from her. Still, it didn't change the fact that she didn't want to do this. Feeling quite morose, Hermione reluctantly headed for the big manor . They had almost reached the entrance gatewhen Hermione cautiously asked,

"Tom… why do you even want the Founders' objects?"

For a moment Tom didn't reply . The silence stretched and Hermione got the feeling he was preparing to lie. When he finally did give her an answer, Tom's voice was light, almost jovial.

"We are talking about the Founders of Hogwarts. They were famous for their power. Seriously, who  _wouldn't_  want to have those objects?"

Hermione couldn't really argue with that. The Founders of Hogwarts were quite the colourful personalities. The objects they had created were surely incredibly powerful.

_Too bad that I have to risk my life getting the locket._

Hermione's eyes nervously flew to the big manor house. It was a beautiful building, but its close resemblance to Malfoy manor made her stomach twist with nausea. The whole estate was encompassed by a high fence, the metal poles of the railings bent and twisted at their ends decoratively. Soon, they reached the entrance gate, but Tom made no move to try and open it. Instead he tugged Hermione towards the massive stone columns of the gate and hid behind them. Hermione's back was pressed tightly into the wall behind her asTom whispered into her ear,

"Apparition into the manor is impossible. The caterers should arrive here. Be ready."

Hermione nodded, fighting against a glum feeling. It wasn't even five minutes later that soft pops of Apparition broke the silence. Hermione watched in trepidation as a group of around ten people appeared right in front of her. Most of them were dressed in shabby rags, the males wearing pants and shirts and the females dresses. The clothes were of the same nondescript shade of blue as Hermione's own dress. Apart from the people in blue stood a small, rather fat man. He was probably in his mid-forties, though Hermione had problems guessing his age, as the obesity had left his face looking somehow swollen. His clothes were hidden underneath a brown wizard's cloak. Only his grey waistcoat could be seen stretched around his large belly, straining the buttons. The man's fat fingers played with a cigarette while his beady eyes boredly wandered over the manor in front of him.

"You are not going to let me down, are you, Hermione?" asked Tom in a silky voice.

She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn that there was a subtle threat woven in his words. Her mouth got very dry and Hermione didn't trust her voice at the moment, so she simply shook her head.

"Good," purred Tom.

It was then that the gate to Smith's manor swung open as if moved by invisible hands. Tom used that moment to shove Hermione over to the group of blue clothed people. She stumbled towards them and quickly slipped between them, hoping no-one would question her sudden appearance. Luckily, before anyone could voice their concern, the fat wizard ordered irritably,

"Get going, damn it!"

He lazily took a drag from the cigarette that hung from the corner of his mouth before he ushered the group of blue-clothed Mudbloods up the hill towards the manor. Hermione kept her head low as she walked among the other Mudbloods, desperate not to make eye contact with anyone. The burly wizard panted heavily and beads of sweat ran down his bald head from the exertion of having to walk up the hill. The appearance of a new Mudblood was far from his mind as he wheezed and cursed,

"Fucking disapparition wards. Paranoid snobs."

†

The manor was magnificent.

Then again Malfoy manor had been magnificent, too. That hadn't changed the fact, though, that Hermione had hated it there. Smith manor exuded the same pomp that all Purebloods seemingly liked to display. It made Hermione want to run in the opposite direction.

Currently, she was in the drawing room of Smith manor. The room was incredibly spacious and it made her wonder how many guests Hepzibah had actually invited for her soiree. At least a hundred, Hermione guessed by the sheer size of the room. In preparation for the soiree, all furniture had been cleared away. Still, the exquisite paintings decorating the walls and the large chandelier hanging from the high ceiling were testimony of Hepzibah Smith's wealth. Hermione glanced up at the multi-layered chandelier and pitied the poor creature that was forced to dust the hundreds of tiny glass crystals. She sighed tiredly and continued to drag a fashionable bar table over to one side of the room. Close by, three other Mudbloods were busy preparing the huge buffet table.

While she arranged the bar table near the huge panorama window, Hermione let her gaze inconspicuously wander over the room. The blue clothed Mudbloods bustled about, preparing everything; meanwhile, the fat wizard leaned lazily against one of the marble pillars near the fireplace and watched the others work. Hermione felt annoyance bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. Her arms already hurt from having to move around the furniture and carry boxes with food and drinks. All the while, that sluggish fat man didn't lift a finger to help. Hermione felt the urge to pull her wand and throw a Stinging Hex at the wizard.

… _or something worse_ , she decided grumpily. Unfortunately she couldn't do that. Hermione was on a mission, after all. She needed to somehow slip away and search the upper floor for Slytherin's Locket as Tom had instructed. At the moment, this was impossible, though. No doubt the fat wizard would notice her trying to leave. Rather ironic, because he hadn't noticed her infiltrating his Mudbloods in the first place.

"Oh, how lovely," a shrill voice exclaimed excitedly.

Hermione turned her head and watched a pudgy old lady waddle into the drawing room on feet that were stuffed into satin slippers that were much too tight. Her corpulent figure was enveloped by a set of silk robes which fluttered around her short legs, threatening to trip the woman. The baby blue colour of the robes clashed garishly with the ginger wig on the woman's head and the unsettling amount of rouge on her cheeks. Her small eyes swept over the room, lingering on the overloaded buffet table.

"Simply lovely," the old woman cried again as she hobbled towards the fat wizard.

Hermione almost snorted as she spotted an ingratiating smile on the wizard's face. He bowed slightly before the old lady, though his fat belly handicapped him.

"Only the best for you, Miss Smith," he simpered smarmily.

"I am so glad you could help me out," the lady, Hepzibah Smith, gushed happily. "It's always such a hustle preparing a soiree."

" _Please_ , Miss Smith," the fat wizard pledged melodramatically. "It is my pleasure, always my pleasure, to help you with  _anything_ you want."

"Now now, Mr Crispe, you naughty boy," Hepzibah giggled foolishly, obviously not minding the man's flattery at all. "You are forever spoiling me."

The fat man laughed and quickly avowed, "Not more than you deserve."

Hermione rolled her eyes. The pile of Galleons the wizard was being paid for his services was the only thing that kept him here. She wondered if his excessive flattery was part of their bargain or just his way to secure the next job. Whatever the case, Mr Crispe proceeded to lead Hepzibah through the room, showing her the progress in the preparations. Hepzibah clung to his arm and beamed cheerfully, now and then giggling girlishly at the man's explanations. Hermione couldn't follow their conversation any longer and resumed her work. At least she hadn't spotted any golden lockets hanging from Hepzibah's neck. That would have complicated her mission. Still, Hermione needed to sneak away and search for Slytherin's Locket. She was immersed in plans on how to get away when a harsh voice snapped at her,

"Hey, you."

Hermione looked up and saw Mr Crispe glaring at her while Hepzibah still hung from his arm, admiring the room. Hermione quickly stepped over to the man and bowed deeply.

"Yes, Master?"

A wave of disgust hit her hard as the word slipped from her mouth. She hadn't used it in so long. It felt oppressive… even more so than the ugly uniform she was forced to wear.

"Go and help prepare the wine," the fat man sneered at her.

"Of course, Master," was Hermione's swift reply.

She again bowed submissively, although neither Crispe nor Hepzibah paid her any attention – as if Hermione wasn't worth their time. Her hands were balled into angry fists as she turned and walked over to a blonde-haired Mudblood who was working behind the huge buffet table. Hermione stepped over to the girl and busied herself with stowing wine bottles under the table so they could be easily reached to serve the guests. All the while, anger was smouldering in the pit of her stomach. She hated Crispe's vain presumption that he could just order her around.

As Hermione angrily sorted the bottles of wine, she felt the need to scream. She didn't understand how she had ever managed to live like this, to just be ordered around. Her time at Malfoy manor flashed through her mind. It did nothing to brighten her mood. To once again be nothing but an invisible servant was unbearable. Hermione glanced at Mr Crispe and hate boiled up in her. The canted smile still hung from his mouth as he continued to heap flattery on Hepzibah. Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek hard.

It was wrong.

She was a Hogwarts student and she was a good one, too. Still, this was her fate? Working as a slave at her master's mercy? Just because her parents had been Muggles? Hermione shuddered as she remembered all the lies that had been fed to her. Mudbloods were stupid and weak.

_Untrustworthy, dirty, useless, disgusting, only good for menial work…_

Shortly after, Hermione had to close her eyes as her emotions threatened to boil over. It was a pile of lies. Everything. With shaky hands, she sorted the bottles of red wine. A strangled laugh left her lips. The Mudblood working beside her threw Hermione a strange look, but luckily didn't comment. Hermione refocused her attention to the wine. Tom's handsome face drifted through her mind.

He had pulled her out. He had given her the truth.

…yet he still called himself her master.

†

It was a few hours later as the guests arrived and the drawing room slowly filled that Hermione started to have serious doubts she would ever make it out of the manor alive. Forcing a smile on her face, she meandered through the drawing room with a tray in her hand, offering canapés to the guests. It wasn't the guests, though, that made Hermione's stomach knot with fear, it were the security guards swarming the place. Black clothed men observed the room with stoic features, a stark contrast to the chatty and rather colourfully dressed guests. Hermione gulped nervously and walked back to the buffet table to refill her tray. Inconspicuously, she observed the security guards. In this room alone were six of those men lurking in the shadows. Hermione was sure there were a lot more on the rest of the estate. Why hadn't Tom warned her about the high security?

Feeling nervous and jumpy, Hermione took her tray with refreshments and once again started a tour through the drawing room. Her only hope now was that the upper floors were not as heavily guarded. Otherwise she didn't know how to get to Slytherin's Locke-

Hermione's scheming was cut short and she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at a head of platinum blond hair. A  _familiar_ head of blond hair. She felt as if someone had doused her in a bucket of ice water. Hermione's hand started to tremble so violently that the tray with canapés almost slipped from her fingers. There, just a few paces from her position, stood none other than Lucius Malfoy in all his pure-blooded glory. Impeccably dressed as ever, he was clothed in the finest of wizard's robes. Delicate silver patterns were embroidered into the black fabric, flashing attractively whenever Lucius moved. His skin was pale and there was the condescending glint in his cold grey eyes that Hermione was sure he had been born with.

Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to release some tension. She had to thank Merlin and Circe that the wizard hadn't yet noticed her. Instead, he was immersed in a conversation with a small, rather plump wizard and a woman wearing a pink costume. Hermione, heart thundering away in her chest, did the only thing she could think of. Hastily, she hid herself behind a nearby marble pillar. Her back was fearfully pressed into the stone as she tried to calm her erratic breathing. Lucius Malfoy was standing just an arm's length away and Hermione wondered in panic what he would do should he spot her.

"Oh, I've always been interested in the workings of your department."

Lucius' smooth voice drifted over to Hermione and she was quaking in fear at his close proximity.

"Lucius, Lucius," a female voice chided with faux coyness. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're after my position."

Lucius chuckled quietly. "There's no need to worry, Dolores. You do an amazing job. I could never hope to compare."

_Dolores?_ Hermione furrowed her brow. Cautiously she peered at the group from behind her pillar. Fortunately, neither Lucius nor his two companions took notice of her, too absorbed into their conversation. Hermione's eyes wandered over the woman in pink. She was in her fifties, wearing a stylish costume – not a witch's dress Hermione noted – and was rather small, even with her heeled pink shoes. At the moment, a sly smirk curled her lips as she scanned Lucius. The blond threw a smirk of his own right back at her and purred,

"No-one could  _ever_  replace the head of our most important Department,  _Madame_  Umbridge."

"Come now," the lady in pink simpered. "Don't waste your Slytherin flattery on me. It won't work."

The familiarity of the woman had buzzed in the back of Hermione's mind and now it hit her. Dolores Umbridge, Head of the Department of Bloodlines. The very department that monitored relentlessly that no Mudblood ever ran free in the wizarding world to defile the pure bloodlines.  _Just what I needed_ , Hermione groaned inwardly as she observed Lucius playfully wagging his index finger at Umbridge.

"It's not flattery if it's the truth."

Umbridge snickered, obviously amused by the light banter. She raised her wine glass and sipped from it.

"You wouldn't want my job anyway," she said. "All this paperwork… I tell you, Lucius, it's tedious."

Lucius arched a fine eyebrow questioningly. Umbridge sighed dramatically, though, the small smirk never left her lips.

"Currently my staff and I are working on adopting a new law. Done overtime for the past weeks…"

The plump man, who until now had remained to be silent, finally spoke up and asked in a squeaky voice, "What law might that be, Madame Umbridge?"

Lucius threw a slightly disgusted look at the small wizard but didn't comment. Umbridge, on the other hand, seemed to be immensely pleased by the question.

"Oh, it's been in the making for months now, Peter," Umbridge giggled. "We're all very excited to see the conclusion of our little pet project soon."

The rat-like man, Peter, nodded dutifully and Umbridge didn't hesitate to continue.

"You must know, it really is a huge logistical effort to keep track of all the Mudbloods entering our world. They need to be marked and recorded correctly, so that none of them run free," Umbridge drawled importantly. "Now, the real problems start when the Mudbloods that are already in our world start to breed. How do you keep track of that mess?"

Hermione furrowed her brow as disgust crept up on her. The smirk still hovered on Umbridge's mouth and Hermione felt the need to curse it off.

"As of now," Umbridge explained, obviously glad to have an audience. "It's the owner's decision whether they want their Mudbloods to get sterilized. And that, Peter, is a scandal. Simply intolerable. So, we decided to get this lax policy changed. We'll make this compulsory."

Lucius merely raised a rather disinterested eyebrow, sipping from his wine. On the other hand, the rat-like man, Peter, asked ingratiatingly,

"So, there won't be any more Mudblood offspring soon?"

Umbridge giggled disturbingly and assured, "The last thing we need is those Mudbloods breeding like rabbits. They flood the market and then no-one knows what to do with the overflow." She shook her head. "No, no. The law stipulates that all Mudbloods must get sterilized right when they enter our world."

An ice cold shudder ran down Hermione's spine as she heard that. She had been around ten when the Snatchers had caught her and killed her parents. Back then, Hermione had lost her family. What Umbridge had in mind would destroy her chance to ever have a family of her own.

"What a wonderful idea," the rat-like man exclaimed and Hermione's hatred for him rose.

"Oh, you think so, Peter?" Umbridge simpered contently. "I suppose it  _is_  rather brilliant. Really, if you think about it, the Mudbloods we get from the Muggle world are more than enough. We don't need to start breeding them here."

Umbridge shook her head melodramatically before she took another sip from her wine glass. Then she continued,

"We also can't ignore the fact that some wizards can't control themselves when it comes to their Mudbloods. I can tell you, catching all those Halfbloods is tedious work. Why, we have a whole office dealing exclusively with that spawn. It's wasting tax money."

"Oh, come on, Dolores," Lucius sniffed, disgusted look on his face. "A whole office? Surely, not that many Purebloods would be desperate enough to mount a Mudblood."

"You would be surprised, Lucius," Umbridge replied dryly.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore and dropped out of the conversation. She released a long breath of air and leaned with her back against the marble pillar. Seething hot, her magic raged through her body and she had to fight to contain it.  _Disgusting_. Those people were simply disgusting. She wondered if people like Umbridge really believed in the rightfulness of their actions.

_Probably yes…_  And that made it all the more horrible.

Hermione shook herself, feeling dirty for just having  _followed_  that conversation. She didn't want to think about it any further. All she had to do was get Slytherin's Locket and then leave this horrible place and go back to-

"What are you doing?" a voice interrupted Hermione.

She flinched and looked up. To her dismay, she saw Hepzibah Smith waddling towards her. The old lady had a reproachful look on her face as she scanned Hermione.

"You little creature," Hepzibah chided. "You can't stand here and laze about. There's work to be done."

With short fat fingers, she grasped Hermione's shoulder and looked at her as if she thought Hermione was dense. Hermione pressed her mouth in a thin line, fighting her already incensed magic. Hepzibah shook her head.

"Did Mr Crispe not teach you?" the woman asked, speaking slowly as if she feared Hermione wouldn't be able to understand otherwise. "Go. Hurry. Back to work with you."

"Of course, Mistress Smith," Hermione replied respectfully and a sickening feeling accompanied her words.

Hepzibah didn't reply but shoved Hermione right into the throng of people. Hermione staggered and almost lost balance of the tray in her hand. She stumbled a few steps, but luckily prevented the tray from slipping. A relieved sigh left her lips. As she raised her head, though, her whole body instantly froze over with fear. Hermione had stumbled right into the midst of the group she had eavesdropped on just moments before.

Umbridge, still wearing her garishly pink dress, eyed Hermione disgustedly and the rat-like man, Peter, threw her suspicious looks. Hermione's couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her whole body as she raised her face and stared at none other than Lucius Malfoy. His grey eyes were icy cold as they wandered over her and Hermione was sure she would die just from Lucius' unforgiving gaze. Trembling in fear, she could do nothing but cower in front of him.

_He knows me. He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me!_

Hermione could barely breathe as terror twisted around her chest. She waited for the wizard to draw his wand and curse her for disobeying and running away from Malfoy manor. With trembling lips, Hermione wanted to beg him for forgiveness as, unexpectedly, Lucius' cold eyes slipped from her. No sign of recognition appeared on his face and he simply ignored Hermione as if she were a bothersome insect.

Hermione stood, stupidly rooted to the spot, and disbelief washed over her. He… Lucius hadn't recognized her?! She breathed in shakily. He really couldn't remember her? Hermione was incredibly relieved …and yet a bit  _offended_ , too. Ten years! She had worked for that man for almost  _ten_  years and Lucius didn't even recognize her face.

Any indignation, mounting up in Hermione, was abruptly cut short by a horribly girlish voice, "Now, what do we have here?"

Hermione slowly turned her head and shuddered as she stared right into Umbridge's face. A decidedly fake smile ghosted around the woman's features. Hermione raised the tray with the canapés, which she miraculously hadn't dropped, and mumbled stupidly,

"Refreshments?"

Surprisingly, Umbridge took one of the canapés and nibbled at it delicately. There was a foreboding glint in her eyes as they scanned Hermione. Hermione quickly bowed before the woman, feeling ashamed that she was forced to act in this way. After having considered Hermione for a moment, Umbridge spoke up again. There was a cruel edge behind her sweet voice as she stated,

"Aren't you just the prime example of why my work is so important?"

The woman giggled as Hermione didn't reply, but bowed even deeper. Anger burned hot as fire in her but she knew she couldn't say anything. Suddenly, stubby fingers carelessly carded through her curly hair and Hermione flinched.

"A little Mudblood girl," Umbridge laughed. Then she ordered, "Tell me, how old are you?"

Hermione cringed at the sharp voice and replied shakily, "I'm… I'm not quite sure, Mistress Umbridge."

Umbridge simply shook her head as if she hadn't expected anything else. "Of course you're not. What was I thinking? You probably can't even count, can you?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. Just last week she had got an 'O' in her Arithmancy essay. Shortly, she wondered how Umbridge would react to that. In the end, though, Hermione whispered shyly,

"No, Mistress Umbridge."

Umbridge sneered down at her and scanned Hermione for a moment before she determined, "Well, she's not older than twenty."

Her gaze wandered over Hermione's bushy hair and she crinkled her nose in disgust.

"Not  _too_  ugly, I suppose," Umbridge continued callously. "Then again all Mudbloods have that rather unattractive vacuous look on their faces… Even without marking them, it'd be easy to identify them just by that dull look in their eyes."

Lucius tabbed an impatient finger against his cane and addressed Umbridge, "Where are you going with this?"

Her face lit up and Umbridge beamed at him as she asked innocently, "You have a son, do you not, Lucius?"

Lucius arched his eyebrows and nodded curtly. A vulpine smile played around Umbridge's lips.

"He's still at Hogwarts, I assume," the witch chirped mirthfully. "Sixth year?"

"Seventh," was Lucius short reply.

"Oh, so he's in  _that_  age," Umbridge giggled.

Lucius replied with an indignant arch of his eyebrow. Umbridge innocently fluttered her eyelashes at him and declared, "Your son's a  _healthy_  boy, Lucius. No-one would be surprised if he lost his control now and then."

Here, the woman threw a suggestive look at Hermione. Understanding glinted shortly after in Lucius eyes as he caught up on the innuendo. Swift disgust followed. The innocent look dropped from Umbridge's face, to be replaced by an evil smirk. She grabbed Hermione's arm and wrenched her closer.

"Tell me," she addressed Lucius, smiling haughtily. "Would you be amused if your first grandchild came out of this thing?"

Umbridge gestured at Hermione's stomach. Immediately a look of deep revulsion and outrage appeared on Lucius' face. Hermione lowered her head so she didn't have to see the disgust in the wizard's eyes. Umbridge still held her mercilessly in place and Hermione felt painfully exposed.

"Draco would never forget himself like that," Lucius said in a clipped voice.

"He's a  _teenager_. They are not known for always thinking things through," Umbridge laughed softly. "Of course he would."

Hermione shuffled slightly, head still bowed. There was a painful stab in her chest as she felt Lucius' piercing gaze still on her. She didn't need to look up to know that disgust twisted his face.

"You said not many wizards would be desperate enough to 'mount a Mudblood'," Umbridge drawled triumphantly. "It doesn't have to be  _desperation_ , exactly."

A sharp smile distorted the woman's face as she scanned Lucius, obviously enjoying herself immensely.

"And that, dear Lucius, is why I was working on this new law," Umbridge declared contently. "So that Draco can still…  _gather experience,_  and you don't have to deal with the unpleasant consequences."

Hermione felt her arm being released and hastily stepped away from Umbridge. She never once raised her eyes as she bowed deeply before she hastily scurried away from Umbridge, Lucius and degradation.

†

Even two hour later, Hermione was still shaken by a mixture of anger, revulsion and a deep hollow feeling. Umbridge's words, wrong and self-righteous as they had been, had left behind a bitter after-taste on Hermione's tongue. She didn't want to dwell on it, though.

Instead, biting the inner side of her cheek nervously, Hermione grabbed an empty beverage crate. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, she quickly carried the crate towards the exit from the drawing room. One of the black-clothed security men guarded the door, looking quite menacing. Ignoring the racing heart in her chest, Hermione grabbed the crate tighter and shuffled through the door as if it were her chore to restock the beverages. Her muscles relaxed slightly as the guard didn't show any inclination to question her and Hermione slipped out of the drawing room.

Reaching a spacious hallway, she quickly hid the crate behind a rather atrocious looking sculpture of a one-legged hag. Then, Hermione snuck through the hallway and towards the grand staircase she had seen while entering the manor. She was lucky not to stumble upon another security guard, and soon Hermione scampered up the staircase, hoping her luck would last. The music coming from the drawing room slowly faded away and Hermione released a breath of air as she reached the next floor. Not hesitating any longer, Hermione commenced her search for Slytherin's Locket. Tom had told her it would be in the upper floors. Now, Hermione only had to find the thing.

_Can't be that hard…_

A quarter of an hour later, Hermione cursed under her breath. The manor was huge. Corridors with dark-wood flooring and expensive looking paintings led to a myriad of doors and other pathways. Hermione took a tentative step down a corridor. A richly decorated carpet covered the floor, muffling her steps. She bit her lip nervously as she eyed yet another door. It was made of heavy wood and looked rather impressive. Cautiously, she tried the handle and found the door unlocked. The room behind turned out to be a lavishly furnished study. Bookshelves decorated the walls and a large mahogany desk stood right under the window. An apprehensive sheen in her eyes, Hermione reached for her wand. She waved it and whispered,

"Accio locket."

Nothing happened and Hermione wondered if Slytherin's Locket could be summoned at all. She angrily shook her head and admonished herself that she hadn't asked Tom about it. How did he think that she would find the locket in this maze of a manor? There was no way she could search each room. That would take ages, she thought glumly. Behind the next door was a huge bathroom. Time was slipping by. Hermione had already searched at least a dozen rooms but came up with nothing. Dread was already bubbling up in her as she opened the next door. Another bedroom. Hermione sighed tiredly but still waved her wand.

"Accio locket."

Again nothing, and Hermione closed the door. She was just about to continue on to the next door when a voice frozer her in her tracks,

"What are you doing here?"

A gasp of shock left Hermione. Hiding her wand behind her back, she whirled around, already in a half bow. An ancient looking woman stood in the corridor. Her face was wrinkled, hair white as snow, and she was hunchbacked, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane. Hermione stiffened as the woman's watery blue eyes wandered over her.

"Why are you here?" the old woman demanded to know.

Hermione squirmed, not knowing how to get out of this. It was then that she spotted a dark tattoo on the woman's left arm.  _A Mudblood_ , she realized and a plan began bubbling up in her. Hermione submissively bowed her head and whispered, trying to sound timid,

"M- Mistress Smith sent me to… to retrieve something… a locket. Mistress Smith said it was one of her most priced possessions… v-very valuable…"

"A locket?!" the woman breathed in shock, speaking more to herself than to Hermione. "Slytherins?"

Hermione raised her eyes and looked at the old woman beseechingly. Stumbling over her own words, she said anxiously,

"I've tried…  _Really_ , I did… But I don't know where it is…"

Cautiously, Hermione peered at the old woman gauging her reaction. At least there was no suspicion on the wrinkly face. Instead, the woman looked slightly jealous.

"My Mistress sent  _you_  to retrieve…?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes. S- she… Mistress Smith told me to fetch that locket. She wanted to show it to one of her guests."

Now the old woman stared at Hermione. Dislike could be seen in her watery blue eyes. Then she snapped mordantly,

"Why would my Mistress sent you? Mistress only trusts  _me_  with tasks like that."

This was not really going the way Hermione wanted it to. She didn't understand the sudden animosity and had to swallow down a sharp reply. Opposition wouldn't get her anything here. So Hermione bowed her head and whispered submissively,

"I'm so sorry. I- I know Mistress Smith was searching for  _you_. She does trust you." Here a smile flittered over the old woman's face. "B- but I was just near-by. So I was sent. Sorry."

Alleviated by Hermione's speech, the woman nodded generously. The angry jealousy had left her eyes completely and she looked at Hermione kindly. Hermione decided to use this and asked cautiously,

"I- I'm so sorry, but M- Mistress Smith… she didn't tell me where I could find that locket. I can't seem to find it. Please, could you help me? I'm sure Mistress Smith tells you where she stores her most important possessions."

"Of course, she does," answered the woman proudly. "My Mistress tells me everything."

She turned around and waved a gnarled hand at Hermione. "Come come, child. I will show you."

A smile appeared on Hermione's face and she quickly scurried after the woman. "Thank you so much."

The old woman smiled at her, showing a missing tooth in her upper jaw. "If my Mistress wants her jewellery, I will do everything I can to comply with her wishes."

"Of course," was Hermione's prompt reply. "I'm sure Mistress Smith is proud to have a servant like you."

The smile on the woman's face widened. "You are a good child. Don't worry; you'll make your Master proud one day, too. By the way, my name is Hokey."

Hermione smiled politely at the misguided woman and said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Hokey. My name is Penny."

Hermione followed as Hokey slowly limped through the corridors. She felt a bit uneasy using the woman like this, but there really was no other way. It wasn't much later that they arrived at a door. It didn't look in any way different than all the other doors Hermione had already seen. still Hokey declared giddily,

"It's here."

She opened the door and Hermione followed her into the room. Although the room was rather large, all the free spaces were stuffed with things. Showcases lined the walls, stuffed with trinkets, stacks of books were piled on a table seemingly without any order, and cardboard boxes leaned against the window, obscuring the sight. As Hermione entered the room, she feared to step on something. Hokey, on the other hand, moved easily through the chaos. Trying to keep up with the old woman, Hermione knocked over a pile of old potion vials that were deposited on a small side table. Some of the bottles rolled over the table, threatening to fall. Hermione tried to catch them while Hokey disappeared behind a huge cabinet.

For a moment, Hokey was no-where to be seen and Hermione was worried that her ploy had already been discovered. But then Hokey re-emerged and, a small wooden box in her hand, hobbled towards Hermione. The old woman smiled widely and declared,

"Here it is. My Mistress' most valuable possession."

Hermione's eyes were glued to the box and she nodded.

"Thank you," she mumbled and reached for the box.

Hokey pulled it out of reach. "You know, child. Now that I'm here, I think it's best I bring this to my Mistress. Don't want it to get lost."

Hermione forced a shy smile on her face and replied shakily, "Of course. It might be better."

Hokey held the wooden box protectively against her chest as she passed Hermione and walked towards the exit. A horrible feeling crept over Hermione as she slowly pulled her wand. She almost drowned in shame as she raised her wand at the decrepit woman's back.

"Stupefy," Hermione whispered.

The red light flew from her wand and slammed into Hokey's back. Only a soft gasp left her mouth as she sagged down on the floor, the wooden box falling from her fingers. Feeling utterly disgusted with herself, Hermione hastened to the fallen form. Gently she turned Hokey on her back.

"I'm really sorry," Hermione said, knowing her apology would never be accepted even if Hokey could hear her.

Feeling like a lousy thief, Hermione grabbed the wooden box. She tried to open it, but it was locked. Hermione sighed and moved the tip of her wand over the silver lock. A soft click could be heard from the box, and then it sprang open. There, on dark blue velvet, lay a golden chain. The chain links were delicately crafted and glinted even in the dimly lit room. Hermione's gaze stopped at the golden locket that rested proudly on the velvet. Little green gems were inlayed in the front of the locket. They formed the letter 'S', elegantly curved so it looked like a small green snake.

Hermione instantly knew that this was Slytherin's Locket. She could feel the deep magic hovering around it. With shaky fingers, she reached out for the locket. Again she felt like a thief, violating a sanctuary. The gold was smooth and cold under the tips of her fingers. The magic within the locket reacted to her touch. As if disgusted by Hermione's audacity, the locket hummed angrily. Her mind ran into overdrive as she wondered what kind of spells and enchantments Slytherin had placed on his locket.

"Oi!"

A loud voice made Hermione flinch violently and her head shot up. She tensed as she spotted one of those security guards standing right in the doorway. The wizard was quite tall and brawny, the sleeves of his black shirt stretching tightly over his biceps.

"What are you doing here, Mudblood?" the guard demanded to know.

Hermione's blood froze over with fear as she stared at the angry man. The wooden box with Slytherin's Locket was still in her hand and a very unconscious Hokey lay right beside her. With growing fear, Hermione watched as the man pulled his wand and took a threatening step towards her.

"What is that in your hand, eh?!" he hissed menacingly. "Answer me, Mudblood!"

Hermione jumped as he yelled the last part at her. She'd been caught red-handed. There was no way she could explain her way out of this. Although her insides screamed at her to obey the wizard, Hermione didn't. Quickly she summoned her magic before she slashed her wand through the air.

_Pulso._

A surge of her magic rushed towards the wizard and forcefully collided with his chest. A surprised gasp left him as he was pushed away. He obviously hadn't expected any kind of attack coming from a Mudblood. Hermione hastily pulled the golden necklace from the box and slipped the chain over her head so that Slytherin's Locket fell gently against her chest. Through the corners of her eyes, Hermione saw a purple light rushing towards her. The light crackled with angry magic and she only had a split-second to dodge the curse. She hurled herself to the side, crashing painfully onto her shoulder. The purple curse missed her by a hair's breadth.

"Stay where you are!" a voice ordered her sharply.

Hermione threw a quick glance at the security guard. By now he had fallen into a duelling stance, his wand threateningly aimed at her. To her horror, Hermione spotted a tiny blue crystal in his hand. Never taking his eyes from Hermione, the wizard raised the crystal to his mouth.

"Intruder alert. Upper floor. Left wing. Need backup."

Hermione gritted her teeth as panic mounted up in her. Maybe she would have been able to take down this one guard but now, she had every member of the security on her trail. Hermione was still crouched on the floor, being held at wand point by the guard. This was bad. Her fingers tightened nervously around her wand. As if sensing she was up to something, the wizard growled menacingly,

"Put down your wand!"

At this point, surrender was no option anymore. Hermione wasn't at all confident with her duelling skills – up to now, she had only ever duelled Tom – but she was left with no other choice. Hermione swallowed down a lump in her throat. She couldn't succumb to panic now.

"Put your wand DOWN!" the guard again screamed at her.

Angry sparks erupted from the wand aimed at Hermione's chest. Her own wand pointed uselessly to the floor. She knew that if she raised her wand even the tiniest bit, the wizard would attack. There was no way she would be faster than him. Born from desperation, a plan flashed through her head. Seeing no other option, Hermione went with it. Her wand was still aimed at the floor and she screamed in her head,

_Nix!_

No visible spell left her wand, but suddenly, frost covered the floor. It spread rapidly while it grew to an inch thick layer of ice. The security guard was startled and stumbled shortly, but quickly regained his balance. Hermione used this lapse in attention. From her crouched position, she pushed herself off the floor and sprinted towards the man. Attacking the brawny man physically was sheer folly but Hermione hoped the ice would play in her hands. She propelled herself forward and used the whole weight of her body as she crashed into the man. Indeed, on the layer of ice, his body weight was a disadvantage. As Hermione slammed into him, the security guard had no means to keep his balance. He lost his footing and slipped on the ice before he fell. Hermione fell down with him, landing on his chest. She didn't hesitate but quickly scrambled up and raced down the corridor.

"Seca!" a yell followed her escape.

Hermione heard the swishing sound of a curse rushing through the air. She dove behind the next corner in the corridor. The curse missed her and violently slammed into the wall, spraying bits of stone and wood everywhere. Hermione's heart raced away in her chest and a jolt of fear hit her as she could hear angry footsteps following her. Her breath came in gasps as she ran down the corridors towards the staircase.

The air bristled with magic and she knew another curse was aimed her way. Flicking her wand, she cast a shield charm, The first spell Tom had taught her.

_Arceberis_

A yellow bubble formed around Hermione, the draw on her magic considerable. Seconds later, a dark curse slammed into her defence. Her yellow shield flickered heavily as it took the brunt of the attack. Then, it broke with a cracking noise. Hermione was launched off her feet and landed painfully on the polished floor. The remnants of the incoming curse impacted with a nearby window. The glass shattered and razor-sharp shards rained down on Hermione. She quickly protected her head with her hands and gasped as the shards cut into her skin.

"Reducto!" the guard attacked again.

Glancing back Hermione spotted the wizard charging towards her, the light of the reductor curse rushing towards her. Instantly she whirled her wand through the air.

_Perditus!_

Hermione never liked the feeling of dark magic, but this was not the time to fight fair. A powerful curse detached itself from the tip of her wand. It angrily cut through the air, rushing towards the security guard. The dark curse crushed into the incoming Reductor and easily tore it apart. Unhindered, it rammed into the security guard's chest. The force of the impact launched him off his feet and threw him on the floor. The wizard screamed in pain as Hermione's curse latched itself on him, infecting his own magic and began to rip it apart. Hermione didn't stay to see more. For now, the man was down. Only a prolonged stay in St. Mungos would restore his magic.

Hermione suppressed all feelings of guilt and ran towards the stairs. Slytherin's Locket bumped against her chest with every step she took. She dearly hoped it would bring her luck. Hermione only had to climb down the staircase and cross the entrance hall of Smith manor to reached the front door, her escape.

Out of breath she finally reached the staircase. She just wanted to rush down the stairs and leave the manor for good. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Ice cold fear doused her whole body at the sight that greeted her. Tall men, wearing all black, threateningly bore their wands at her. Hermione could at least count ten. With wide eyes, she stared down at the entrance hall and the door that would lead to freedom. Unreachable.

"Freeze!" one man hollered at her aggressively. "Do not fucking move!"

Hermione's grip on her wand slackened and panic threatened to override.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Crowns are for the valiant – sceptres for the bold!**  


**Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.**

**"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,**

**"But Iron – Cold Iron – is master of men all!'**

**\- Rudyard Kipling**

**(*1865 † 1936)**


	17. Light to Die

Hermione gulped. At least ten wands were aimed at her and she could tell that their owners meant business. Hermione stood at the top of the impressive staircase of Hepzibah's manor and stared at the security guards who blocked her escape route to the front door. Panic strangled her as her, sadly limited, options pelted through her head. Surrender would get her arrested, and then probably executed for trespassing and stealing. She could engage the guards, but that meant a fight ten against one. Hermione nervously licked her parched lips as her gaze travelled over the brawny men.

She was ripped from her stupor as one of the security guards ordered sharply, "Palmer, Hartford, grab her!"

Instantly, the two guards closest to Hermione sprang into action. Wands held threateningly, the wizards approached her. Hermione stumbled back a step, confronted by the tall, muscular men. Adrenaline pulsed through her body and she reacted instinctively by bringing up her wand.

"Stupefy!"

The Stunner sailed towards the men, but Hermione didn't wait to see whether or not the spell hit. She whirled around and bolted back down the corridor she had come from. She had to duck as a barrage of curses followed her. Wood splintered and chips rained down on her. Hermione ignored it and ran, turned left, and then right, into the maze of corridors. The guards were hot on her heels. Curses narrowly missed her and instead shredded the expensive paintings on the walls. Hermione frantically brandished her wand and conjured a shield. She groaned as it heavily drew on her magic to keep the incoming curses at bay. Obviously, Hepzibah hadn't been cheap when she hired the security company. Adapting to Hermione's shield, the guards cast powerful magic to bring it down. One curse managed to breach her defence. Hermione gasped in pain as the curse violently crashed into her left shoulder. She gritted her teeth as she felt blood running down her back. Throwing herself around the next corner, Hermione temporarily escaped the attacks. Her breath came in short gasps as she raced down the corridor. It only took a few seconds for the guards to close in on her. With a clear line of fire, they instantly resumed their attack. Hermione knew she needed to buy herself some time. Almost stumbling over her own feet, she hastily turned on the spot and waved her wand.

_Lacryma!_

Thick, dark smoke swirled from her wand. It formed an almost solid wall in the corridor, separating Hermione from her attackers. She could barely see the men through the dark mist. One of them hadn't been fast enough to get away and got caught in the black smoke. Hermione could see him crumbling to his knees while his fingers clawed at his own face. A deep, blood-curdling scream followed.

Hermione didn't need to see more; she turned on her heels and continued her escape. Hopefully, the guards would need some precious minutes to take her magic down. She didn't even feel bad about having used Dark Magic once again. The curse  _was_ unequivocally dark. It aimed its attack not on the body or the magic, but the mind. That curse, similar to a Dementor, would infest the victim's mind with an absolute feeling of despair.

Hermione could hear the guards firing spells, trying to take down the dark smoke and free their comrade. She knew her spell wouldn't impede them for long. Still, her injured shoulder forced her to slow down. She was starting to feel dizzy, too. Shakily, Hermione stumbled down another hallway. The depressing dark colour of the wallpapers was interrupted by huge ugly paintings. A loud crack could be heard from behind and dread wrapped mercilessly around Hermione. Her curse had been taken down. Already, heavy footfall echoed through the passageway. The guards would catch up soon.

Hermione pressed on. She was passing an enormous painting of a medieval castle when something caught her eye. There was a strangely worn patch on the dark wallpaper right beside the frame of the painting. It was an awfully familiar sight to Hermione. A grim smile stretched her lips. It seemed luck was on her side after all. Her fingers shook slightly as they slid over the worn patch of wallpaper. She clutched the frame of the painting and pulled at it. There was a grinding sound as the painting obeyed and glided forward, revealing a hidden staircase. The steps, worn and narrow, were the stairs that the servants were supposed to use. Malfoy manor had been full of these hidden stairwells. No wizard wanted their Mudbloods to flounce around the manor, using the main passageways. Servants should be neither heard nor seen.

A curse crashed into the wall right beside Hermione's head. The security guards had caught up. Hermione sent a curse at them before she hastily raced down the narrow stairs, hopefully closer to an escape. Soon, she reached the end of the staircase and pushed against the door. It creaked loudly as it gave way and Hermione stepped into the light. She blinked and almost stumbled over an abandoned crate that stood on the floor. A sculpture of a one-legged hag stood nearby. It was vaguely familiar. Hermione had passed this spot not even an hour before. Her eyes shot down the hallway and found the huge double doors, leading into the drawing room.

The guards were blustering down the stairs, almost upon her. Hermione turned her head. The entrance hall was opposite from the drawing room. Very close. Just as she wanted to race towards her safe escape, Hermione spotted more security guards. They had stayed behind, blocking the exit. Now they charged at her. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest. She was cornered like an animal. As of now, there was only one way she could take. Her eyes darted back to the doors leading into the drawing room.

It was suicide, really. But she had no choice.

Hermione flung herself towards the drawing room. This was probably the worst escape route possible, she admitted to herself as she dashed towards the high double doors, curses following her all the way. Her attackers had joined forces with the men they had left behind in the entrance hall. Now, they all attacked with vigour.

_Definitely not good._

Hermione sent a Diffindo at her attackers and was rewarded with a satisfying yelp. It didn't stop the barrage of incoming curses, though. The security guards were obviously desperate to prevent Hermione from entering the drawing room, in fear that she could possibly endanger the guests.

_Too bad,_  Hermione thought as she grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it open. Instantly, the chatter and soft music hit her, telling her that there had been a Silencing Charm placed over the doors. She almost felt bad for crashing Hepzibah's party. Almost.

The soiree was still in full swing. Pureblood witches and wizards were standing in small groups, chatting and flaunting their latest, surely horrendously expensive, dresses. Mudbloods, in their blue standard uniforms, scurried between the guests, offering drinks and snacks. Wand grabbed tightly, Hermione ran into the drawing room, wild look on her face. She remembered the panorama windows on the other end of the room. That was her escape, the only one that was left to her. Either that or death.

She didn't really need more of an incentive.

Praying to every deity she knew, Hermione dashed towards the large window. Dimly, she could hear the shouts of her pursuers. They had stopped attacking her with curses, afraid to hit the unsuspecting guests. Hermione was grateful for that. Panting with exertion, she frantically wormed her way through the throng of people. She couldn't help but bang into some of them, even rudely pushing some out of her way. There were shrieks of indignation and angry snarls.

"Watch it!"

A wizard in green dress robes snapped at her in anger, disgust clouding his eyes as he spotted her attire and the red wand in her hand.

"Filthy Mudblood!"

He raised a hand, probably to deliver a 'well deserved' blow. Hermione didn't waste time to find out. Gaze fixed on the window, she hurried on. Her heart thundered away in her chest, and her breath came in gasps. In the corners of her eyes, she could see the black clothed men following. Thankfully, they were slowed down by the party guests.

The next curse that flew Hermione's way didn't come from one of the security guards. Maybe that was why she was unprepared. Taken by surprise, the yellow curse crashed into her side. Like a blade dripping with poison, dark magic cut into Hermione's flesh. A pained yell tore from her lips as the force of the impact catapulted her a few metres until she forcefully crashed into the floor. Tears of pain built up and black dots danced in her vision as Hermione lay on the floor. Her hand shot to her side and she felt sick as warm liquid seeped through her fingers, gathering in a pool around her. Only dimly Hermione heard the shocked cries from the soiree guests and hectic shuffling as they tried to get away from her.

Hermione gritted her teeth and blinked away the tears. She needed to get away from here. Groaning in pain, she rolled over and managed to pull herself up into a crouching position, wand held and ready to strike. Panic flashed through her, making her breathing hitch, when she found herself surrounded by the security guards. They formed a circle around her and they all had their wands trained on her. Hermione's own wand shot from one man to another while her eyes desperately searched for an opening. Strangely enough, the men didn't attack. They were apparently waiting for something. The dead silence was interrupted by the sharp clicks of high heels on the stone floor. Hermione turned her head. A figure, clad in a pink costume, stepped forward. It was none other than Dolores Umbridge, a sickly, sweet smile on her face, as she calmly walked towards Hermione's crouched form. Her wand was in her hand. Undoubtedly, it had been Umbridge who had sliced open Hermione's side. The witch raised an eyebrow as she scanned Hermione, twisted amusement lingering in her eyes.

"Now, what do we have here?" Umbridge said lightly, yet lethally cold. "A little Mudblood, misplaced?"

Hermione's lips rose into a snarl and the grip on her wand tightened. Umbridge simply smiled at her in that horribly fake way.

"You've caused enough mayhem, don't you think?" the witch commented, still with that overly sweet tone in her voice. "You're in enough trouble as it is."

Hermione mutely stared at her, anger and fear warring inside of her. Her wand was trained on the woman while her other hand held the copiously bleeding cut in her side. It hurt. Everything hurt. The security guards still surrounded her. The ten men were quite the overkill as they encircled Hermione's kneeling, bleeding form. Already, the bitter taste of defeat spread on her tongue. Nervously, her eyes darted from Umbridge to the window and back again. An evil smirk twisted Umbridge lips.

"No no," she chastised in a mocking sing-song voice. "Don't think you can get away."

The tone had been light, as if reprimanding a little child, but Hermione could see the promise of pain smouldering in Umbridge eyes. It made panic curl vicelike around Hermione's stomach. Umbridge's unforgiving eyes travelled to the wand in Hermione's hand, disguised in red. She shook her head disapprovingly.

"What a scandal. That is a real wand, is it not?" the woman sighed, disgust oozing from her tone. "A Mudblood with a wand? What is this world coming to?"

Hermione's vision blurred as she stared up at the cold woman. It was over. Tom's mission, Hermione's time at Hogwarts, her freedom… her  _life_  would be over. Her eyes snapped shut as panic threatened to wash her away into a dark place.

_It's over._

So much pain and suffering. It all rushed by her mind's eye and she could see herself trying to stay alive at Malfoy manor. Trying to survive.

_All for naught._

Hermione bent her head. Her arm fell to her side. The wand slowly slipped from her numb fingers. What was there to do but surrender and accept her fate? The evil smile on Umbridge's face widened as she saw the display of defeat. She turned to the dark-clothed men. Umbridge's voice was sharp, business-like as she ordered,

"Seize her."

The men obeyed and moved closer. Hermione was still crouching on the floor of Hepzibah's drawing room, bleeding and threatened by Umbridge and a dozen wizards. Slowly, she opened her eyes and raised her face, only to be met by Umbridge's sadistic smile. There was a hand on Hermione's shoulder, grabbing her painfully as she was brutally pulled to her feet. Hermione numbly stared into Umbridge's unforgiving eyes.

"How bothersome," Umbridge informed coldly. "It's actually my day off, you should know."

A disdainful look crossed the witch's face and she shook her head at Hermione. At that sight of contempt, a flash of uncontrollable fury shot through Hermione. It flowed through her body, seething hot, infecting both her mind and her magic. Hermione struggled against the hands holding her in place and bared her teeth at Umbridge in a snarl. Blood coloured her teeth red; she could taste it coppery on her tongue. It didn't matter. Hermione's rage burned everything away.

"Screw you!" she growled at Umbridge.

Umbridge didn't react. Unimpressed, she smirked at Hermione. Hermione's whole body trembled with a wild mix of anger and exhaustion. She could not…  _would not_  let that horrible woman win! The security guard still held her in a tight grasp, but Hermione fought wildly against him. His fingers bit painfully into her flesh, but she managed to wrench her arm free. Before the man could restrain her again, Hermione brought her wand up. Seeing this, Umbridge raised her own wand, ready to block any curse. Hermione didn't attack her, though. Instead she aimed her wand at the ceiling. The expensive crystal chandelier, which she had admired the first time she had entered Hepzibah's drawing room, hung precariously close to Hermione's position. She didn't hesitate.

_Destruo!_ Hermione screamed in her head.

A bright, white light detached itself from her wand and dashed towards the chandelier. The curse slammed into the chain where the chandelier was fixed in the ceiling. Before anyone could prevent it, the chain burst and the chandelier fell. Panic ensued. Screams echoed through the drawing room as Hepzibah's guests scrambled away. Umbridge swirled her wand, trying to save herself from getting crushed under the chandelier's weight. Hermione wrenched herself free of the security guard's grip and stumbled back. The chandelier forcefully crashed on to the floor, only narrowly missing Hermione. Umbridge completely disappeared behind dust and flying crystal glass. Hermione was knocked backwards. A muffled yell of pain left her as she was thrown to the floor. People screamed and ran for the doors, panic on their faces as the drawing room descended into chaos.

Pain wracked Hermione. Already, black dots danced in her vision. Still, she pulled herself up. Her head swirled and she stumbled dangerously. Feeling quite nauseous, Hermione fixed her eyes on the panorama windows. She needed to leave. As fast as she could, Hermione stumbled forwards.

"Stop!" a furious voice sounded over the mayhem, accompanied by a curse which luckily missed Hermione.

Hermione turned her head and her breath hitched in fear. Umbridge, her usually neat hair in disarray, stood in the remains of the once proud chandelier. Blood oozed from a deep cut on her cheek and dust coloured her skin deathly white. A murderous promise of retribution madly glinted in her eyes as the witch whirled her wand. A dark curse dashed towards Hermione, who barely managed to sidestep the attack. She felt Umbridge's magic painfully crackling in the air as the curse passed.

Hermione whirled around and raced towards the window. More curses followed her, but over the chaos of Hepzibah's panicked guests and settling dust from the chandelier, Hermione managed to avoid getting hit. Brandishing her wand, she ran towards the window. A hex flew from her wand's tip. It crashed forcibly into the glass, shattering it completely. Hermione could feel some shards cutting into her skin and her dress, but she didn't care. Without looking back at the chaos she had created, she jumped through the window frame and onto soft grass, before she ran into the night.

†

Hermione could barely remember how she had escaped Hepzibah's estate and had stumbled through the dark towards the small Muggle village. She was breathing heavily, the adrenaline not having left her body yet. The calm of the village seemed to mock her. Every noise she heard made her jump in fright, afraid that the security guards, Umbridge, or maybe Aurors had found her. Her body shivered from cold and pain as she limped down a street. Her filthy blue dress was soaked in blood and Hermione held her side, which still oozed a steady stream of dark blood.

Hermione was too exhausted to cast an Invisibility Charm over herself. The only form of magic she could summon was a Scorgify. The blood and grime disappeared from her clothes, making herself presentable. The last thing she needed was for any Muggles to stop her to inquire about her disastrous condition. Hermione couldn't enter the B&B dripping blood everywhere. It might alarm the receptionist. Hermione chuckled softly, but instantly winced as a sharp pain shot through her side.

_Damn you, Umbridge._

Angrily, Hermione kicked a discarded soda can from the sidewalk into the gutter. Cursing under her breath, she limped on. The next street looked vaguely familiar. Hermione squinted her eyes. The B&B wasn't far from here. Involuntarily, her hand wandered to the golden locket that still hung from her neck. She had doubted that she would ever see Tom again. Her fingers tightened around Slytherin's Locket. Against all odds, she had managed to accomplish her mission. A hiss of pain left Hermione's lips as the golden locket sent a vindictive jolt of magic through her fingers. She quickly let go of it, now annoyed by its hostile behaviour. Her temper piqued, she stomped towards the entrance door of the B&B.

_At least Riddle now has his precious locket_ , Hermione thought acridly as she entered the small B&B. Indeed, a receptionist was still available. A teenage girl sat behind the table, a mobile in her hand, and was chatting quite animatedly. The girl didn't even glance at Hermione. Hermione didn't care either way but continued on to Tom's room. She moaned softly in pain when she had to climb a flight of stairs, her injured side throbbing viciously. Then, it was only a few more steps. She banged the door open and stepped into the room. Hermione's eyes swept over the room and found Tom lounged on the twin bed, lazily immersed in a book. It only managed to rile Hermione's temper even further and a glare found its way to her face. Tom sat up on the bed when he noticed her entrance. Hermione didn't know what she had expected upon her return, but the inquisitive expression on his otherwise emotionless face certainly did nothing to improve her mood.

"Well?" Tom prompted demandingly. "Did you get it?"

The fastidious tone of voice he used was enough to let Hermione's temper flare dangerously. She pressed her mouth into a thin line and glared at the dark-haired wizard, not saying anything.

"Hermione?" Tom's stern voice reprimanded her. "Answer me."

The commanding tinge was enough to finally push Hermione over the edge. Tom's frosty eyes stared at her, coldly demanding an answer. Without really thinking about her actions, Hermione pulled out her wand. Angrily, she slashed it through the air and sent a Stinging Hex Tom's way. He yelped rather satisfyingly as her hex hit him.

"Your plan," Hermione thundered at him heatedly. ",was shitty."

Tom rubbed his arm. He glared at her, outrage on his face. He was, however, inclined to ignore her outburst as her words sunk in. His brow furrowed and a sharp glint appeared in his eyes as he inquired,

"You didn't get it?"

Hermione ignored the anger on his face and sneered at him. Then she reached for the golden necklace around her neck. She grabbed the chain and pulled the locket from underneath her dress.

"Don't be silly," she snapped at Tom.

His deep blue eyes widened as they took in the delicate locket. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curved up into a smirk. He got up from the bed and stepped over to her. His blue eyes never left the golden locket. As if hypnotized by the trinket, Tom reached for it and roughly pulled it from Hermione's neck. Hermione wasn't at all pleased by the mesmerized look on Tom's face as he stared at the locket in his hand. He hadn't even asked if she was okay.

"Hope you are happy now," Hermione snarled caustically.

Tom only reluctantly pulled his gaze from the golden locket. He peered at her and informed condescendingly,

"You have pleased me. That's the only reason why I overlook your current misbehaviour."

Hermione felt painfully disappointed in face of his harsh words. She had only narrowly managed to escape death, but obviously Tom did not care in the slightest.  _Of course_ he would only be interested in the stupid locket. Hermione's fury drained, interrupted by dark spots of disappointment. This feeling of defeat reminded her painfully of how she had been kneeling before Umbridge. Helpless. Hermione gritted her teeth, waved her wand and snarled,

"Volnerare."

The borderline dark curse bristled angrily as it rushed towards Riddle. This time, he wasn't taken off guard. He didn't pull his wand, but just slashed his hand through the air as if slapping someone. An invisible force crashed into Hermione's curse, forcing it off its trajectory. Before she could react, Tom snapped his fingers and his strong magic forcefully slammed into her, flinging her painfully against the wall of the room. Another wave of pain shot through her hurt shoulder and into the cut in her side. Hermione moaned softly as nausea hit her hard. Tom's eyes shone in a dangerous light as he glared at her menacingly. Weakly, she leaned against the wall, fighting against her painfully throbbing body. She could barely focus her eyes and her vision danced in front of her.

"Hermione," Tom warned, a baleful touch of malice in his dark voice. "Do not test my patience. You will regret it."

Hermione didn't raise her wand again, knowing a lost battle when she saw one. As she stared at Tom's angry form, unbidden, Umbridge's sneering face swam to the forefront of her mind. Hermione's mouth thinned into an angry line as she glowered at Tom. She couldn't hold back a snippy retort.

"Of course, Master," she sneered with fake submissiveness, bowing her head mockingly. "How could I  _dare_ to bother you with my pitiable existence?"

Tom, who had once again been entranced by the locket, unfixed his gaze from Slytherin's creation and eyed her. Irritation crossed his face and he questioned,

"What is  _wrong_  with you?"

"Nothing," Hermione bit out scathingly.

She crossed the room and flopped down into the armchair. A groan left her as the cut in her side sent a painful jolt through her body. Her hand shot to the wound and she could feel blood seeping through the recently scorgified fabric of her dress. Tom observed her suspiciously, only now fully taking her in. When he saw her wince again, he asked tightly,

"Are you hurt?"

Now that Tom's attention had fully shifted from Slytherin's Locket to her, Hermione felt strangely insecure under his scrutiny. Abruptly, her previous anger dropped from her and left behind nothing but deep exhaustion. Hermione cautiously peered at Tom, suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious.

"I'm fine," she assured meekly.

Tom arched an elegant eyebrow at her sudden mood change. He gingerly put Slytherin's Locket in his pocket, and then he walked over to her. Hermione avoided his penetrating gaze and lowered her eyes. Tom stood directly in front of her, towering over her sitting form, and Hermione felt her Dark Mark smarting with his annoyance.Cautiously she raised her eyes and looked at him. He scanned her expectantly, his blank face expressionless.

Once again, the events in Smith manor caught up with Hermione. She didn't understand why Umbridge's cruel words, the whole _situation_ , had hit her so hard. She had been confronted with vitriol against Mudbloods often enough. It shouldn't leave her so… lost. Hermione drew in a shaky breath of air. Her previous fury didn't return. Instead, she was left with a feeling of desolation and loneliness.

"Hermione?!" Tom's sharp voice made her head snap up at him.

He still stood directly in front of her, his blue eyes narrowed angrily. Hermione bit her lip. Then, completely disregarding Tom's irritation with her, she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his stomach. His body stiffened, probably as surprised by her sudden actions as she was. Tom didn't push Hermione away, though, and after a moment, he relaxed. She shuddered as she felt a hand on her head. Hesitantly, fingers stroked through her hair. She tightened her arms around him.

It was a long moment until she felt able to let go of Tom. An embarrassed blush coloured her cheeks as Hermione awkwardly unwrapped herself from him. She glanced up at him. An impenetrable mask completely obscured Tom's emotions. Still, his deep blue eyes were intently trained on her.

"Did you get hurt?" Tom repeated his question tersely.

Hermione swallowed thickly. Determinedly, she shook her head and told him, "It was just a little Cutting Hex. I'm fine."

"Hm." The suspicion in Tom's eyes intensified and he ordered, "Let me see."

Without waiting for her consent, he started to undo the buttons of her filthy dress. Then, he pulled it down, leaving Hermione's upper body naked aside from the black bra. She looked down at herself and saw the ugly slash on her left side. It was rather deep and dark red blood gushed from it.

"That," Tom stated softly, "wasn't a 'little Cutting Hex.'"

Hermione shrugged and had to draw in a sharp breath of air as the movement painfully disturbed the wound. Tom raised an eyebrow at her antics. When she merely gazed back at him, he sighed, reached for his wand and crouched down in front of her. Slowly, he waved his wand over her wound and Hermione could feel his magic on her body. After a moment he looked up at her and asked reproachfully,

"Sectumsempra?"

Hermione averted her eyes and whispered shyly, "Yes. I think so."

"Tsk." Tom clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Clumsy, aren't you?"

Instantly, her anger rushed back to her. All timidity forgotten, she huffed indignantly, "Well, if  _someone_  had factored in all scenarios, then I wouldn't have had to run for my life."

"What?" Tom bristled. "It's suddenly my fault that you are unable to follow simple instructions?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes into small slits as she replied scathingly, "Maybe your so-called instructions were useless."

To emphasize her statement, Hermione angrily crossed her arms in front of her chest. Unfortunately the movement caused the cut in her side to throb agonizingly. Hermione yelped in pain and held her side. She could feel the blood seeping through her fingers. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and said tiredly,

"Okay. Let's argue later."

His gaze wandered over her side. There was a strange flicker in his frosty eyes as he scanned the bleeding lash. In the end, Tom raised his wand and slowly waved it over Hermione's injury. Once again, his powerful magic bristled over her skin.

"Ouch!" hissed Hermione as another jab of pain hit her hard.

"Don't be such a wimp," murmured Tom, occupied with his healing magic.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but he didn't notice as he was still bent over her injury.

"You know," she told him curtly. "I could hurl that curse at you, so you know how it feels."

Tom's eyes flashed at her. A sly smirk curled his mouth as he declared in mock outrage,

"A Mudblood cursing her Master? Why, I could have you executed for that."

For a second Hermione simply stared at him. Then she couldn't help herself. Tiredness and fatigue had taken their toll and Hermione felt light-headed. Her lips curved into a grin before she giggled. She was laughing hard, struggling for breath, as she teased,

"And then? However will you find the other two Founders' objects without me?"

Tom merely replied with a smirk before he continued to work on her injury. He also had a look at her shoulder and the many minor cuts all over her skin. It was a while later that Tom deemed his job to be done. A frown between his eyebrows, he once again examined the cut in her side. It had stopped bleeding and the wound had crusted over with blood, showing the first signs of healing.

"Okay. That's as much as I can do here," Tom declared.

He stood up from his crouched position and grabbed Hermione by the arm.

"Come here," he ordered as he pulled her up.

The blue dress Hermione had been wearing had slipped down to her waist. Tom took hold of the coarse material and carelessly pulled it down her body. The dress pooled around Hermione's feet and left her standing in nothing but her underwear. She blushed as she glanced up at Tom. He didn't care at all about her embarrassment. Instead, he pushed her towards the bed.

"Lie down," he ordered curtly. "You need rest."

Embarrassment still coloured her cheeks. Hermione felt unable to argue with Tom and simply complied with him. There was a sharp stab coming from the wound in her side as Hermione sat down on the bed. Cautiously, as not to disturb the injury again, she laid down on her right side. Tom pulled the blanket over her, and then he slumped down on the other side of the bed. Still fully clothed, he lazily leaned against the headboard and pulled the locket from his pocket. Hermione watched through hooded eyes as Tom waved his wand over the golden locket, fascination burning in his eyes. Ignoring her protesting side, Hermione slid closer to Tom on the bed. He was so immersed with the locket that he only noticed her movement when she huddled against him. Cocking an eyebrow, Tom stared at her for a moment. He didn't comment, though, and returned his attention to Slytherin's Locket. Hermione happily snuggled even closer. Tiredness tugged at her, but her gaze was captured by the shiny piece of jewellery in Tom's hand.

"Hm… can I touch it?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Tom arched one elegant eyebrow. "You had it for long enough, don't you think?"

Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes and instead clarified, slight accusation in her voice, "Other things occupied my mind at that point in time."

Tom snorted at her retort. Unexpectedly, he didn't argue with her, but offered her the locket. Hermione hesitated a moment before she reached for it. Surprisingly, he really let go of it and the locket now lay in the palm of her hand. Once again, Hermione felt thick magic hovering around the locket, trying to push her away. That magic was quite impressive. She cautiously poked the locket with her index finger.

Tom snickered. "I wonder what Slytherin would have said if he had known that one day, his locket would end up in a Mudblood's hands."

Hermione ignored that odd twist in her stomach and quickly handed him back the locket. Tom returned to examining it, waving his wand now and then. Hermione watched him.

"So…?" he asked absently, never taking his eyes from the locket. "What happened in the manor?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She hadn't expected him to actually care. Cold shivers travelled down her spine as she thought of the disaster she had so narrowly escaped. Hermione nestled closer to Tom's warmth and leaned her head against his side, cautious not to disturb him. Then she told him –  _everything_  – about Umbridge's skewed idea of justice, about Hokey's craziness, Lucius' disgust and about the security guards who tried to hunt her down. Meanwhile, Tom continued to study Slytherin's creation and Hermione wondered if he was even listening. Maybe he had only asked out of politeness? Hermione didn't care. It felt good to talk about it all and so she continued her story. It was sometime between her mad chase through the manor and her blasting Umbridge away that Hermione's tiredness kicked in and sleep caught up with her.

†

Someone poked her in the shoulder. Hermione groaned and, not even opening her eyes, rolled on her back. The annoying poking continued. Hermione raised a hand and tried to swat that nuisance away, not yet willing to abandon her sleepy state. A melodious chuckle washed over her, but not even that voice could convince her to finally wake up. Her eyes stubbornly remained shut.

"Come on," the silky voice coaxed. "You've slept long enough."

_Surely not_ , Hermione thought sluggishly. She had been asleep for what? Five minutes? As if enjoying to contradict her, that voice informed languidly,

"It's already ten o'clock in the morning …if you still want to call that ' _morning'_."

Hermione's brow furrowed. Was it really Sunday already? Reluctantly, she cracked her eyes open. Indeed, the window greeted her with bright sunlight.

"Ah, finally," the deep voice teased. "Awoken from the dead."

Hermione blinked then she raised her blurry eyes, just to fall into pools of icy blue. Tom smirked down at her. He looked decidedly unruffled and was still wearing his clothes. He had probably spent the whole night studying the locket, although Hermione couldn't see it anywhere. At the moment, Tom bestowed his complete attention upon her. Slick smile in place, he gazed down at her. Hermione frowned at him in suspicion. Tom's smirk only widened.

"How are you feeling?"

Hermione hesitated shortly and cautiously rolled her shoulder. Her body still hurt a bit, but she was feeling a lot better now. She glanced at Tom and assured,

"I'm fine."

He simply rolled his eyes at her, though the smirk never faltered. He raised a hand and tugged the blanket away from her. His gaze wandered to the cut in her side. Hermione could see that even over the few hours of rest, it had healed some more. Obviously Tom, too, was satisfied with her healing process. He slowly leaned down to Hermione and whispered seductively into her ear,

"We haven't yet celebrated the successful conclusion of our mission, have we?"

Hermione opened her mouth to question his dubious behaviour, but only a gasp left her. Tom slid over her, grabbed both her wrists and pressed them into the mattress right beside her head. All sleepiness abruptly dropped from Hermione as she stared up at him. Tom loomed over her, his knees encasing her hips. She squirmed uncomfortably as his steely gaze slowly wandered over her body, halting at her chest. Hermione only now realized that she was just wearing her underwear. She felt horribly exposed as Tom greedily drank in the sight of her body, possessive glint in his eyes. A blush coloured her cheeks and she pleaded meekly,

"Tom…"

His icy blue eyes flicked to hers and then there was an insidious smirk slowly curling his lips. Hermione could spot desire in the depth of his eyes and it scared her. She had heard so many stories of masters forcing their Mudbloods, violating them, and those stories now swirled through her head. It didn't help that Umbridge's cruel insinuations and Lucius' disgust popped up in her mind as well. Hermione tried to pull out of Tom's grip, but he just tightened his hands around her wrists. Hermione's heart hammered away in her chest. Her panicked gaze flickered over the room, searching for an escape. Finding none, she anxiously looked up at Tom. He was simply going to take what he wanted, wasn't he? The ominous glint in Tom's eyes told her so. Hermione's body started to tremble, fear building up. She closed her eyes and hoped it, at least, would be over fast.

Next Hermione expected a harsh grip, him forcing her body in position. That's how she had always imagined it. So, she tensed with surprise as she suddenly felt soft lips on her own, kissing her almost tenderly. Gently teeth nibbled at her lower lip, coaxing her. It was familiar. She had done this before. The last time, Hermione had even initiated that kiss and she had enjoyed it very much. Tom kissed her so softly and the familiarity of this contact managed to dim her initial fear. Involuntarily her body relaxed. Hermione even dared to return the kiss.

As Tom felt her responding to his ministrations, he released her wrists and his hands softly brushed along her arms. The tips of his fingers ghosted over her shoulders and collarbones, leaving her in goose-bumps. Hermione was so lost in the kiss, she barely noticed how Tom gingerly unclasped her bra and slid it from her body. A surprised gasp left her as she felt Tom touching her naked breasts. He used her reaction and slid his tongue into her mouth, greedily rubbing it against hers. Without her consent, Hermione's body started to respond to him. A pleasant fire ignited in the bit of her stomach, prickling excitingly. Tom's hands were on her breasts, kneading them, caressing them. He flicked a finger over her nipple, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. Hermione moaned softly. The fire that had started in her lower stomach now raged everywhere, tugging at her senses demandingly. Hermione desperately sought to satisfy that desire, but it only got worse as Tom's hands left her breasts to wander down her body until his fingers made contact with the hem of her knickers. Decisively he grabbed the material and pulled her knickers down her legs. He carelessly threw them away and they noiselessly sailed down on the floor.

Hermione lay on the bed, now fully naked, while Tom half lay on top of her. He was still clothed and a mixture of arousal and embarrassment raved through Hermione as she was exposed to his hungry gaze. Tom's fingers buried themselves in her hair and he forced her head back so he had access to her neck. His teeth left behind small bite marks as Tom's mouth wandered over her skin. His hand sneakily skimmed down her body, over her stomach and passing her belly button. Lust and arousal blinded her, but Hermione's desire was suddenly interrupted by doubt. She didn't know how far Tom wanted to go and while this  _was_ pleasant it also scared her. So, Hermione ignored the fire raging inside of her and whispered shakily,

"Tom?"

He stopped and looked up at her. Hermione shuddered at the intensity of his eyes. Her mouth snapped shut and very nearly she wouldn't have said anything. But then the nervous words dropped from her mouth,

"I… we can't do this."

"Hmm," Tom purred while continuing to kiss her neck. "And why's that?"

Hermione moaned softly as he gently bit her skin. Still she argued, "B- because I'm… I'm…"

Tom stopped his actions and looked up at her. There was a devilish grin on his face as he suggested innocently,

"Because you are a Mudblood? And I am your Master?"

Hermione bit her lip as she stared at him. Then she slowly nodded her head. The smirk on Tom's face only widened.

"You know," he scorned. "If you don't like it, you could kick me out of bed."

He didn't say any more, but again bent over her and placed a kiss on her lips. Hermione stiffened, not returning the kiss. Kick him out of bed? She certainly couldn't do that. As if having read her thoughts, Tom mumbled distractedly,

"I would curse you then, of course."

Hermione tensed further, not moving even a muscle. Tom's lips left hers and he bent up slightly to be able to look into her eyes. His gaze cut into her and if he hadn't already pinned her into the mattress, Hermione would have shrank away from him. It was then that a smirk curved Tom's lips and he mused innocently,

"Then again, you also have a wand and know a  _few_  curses. So, the situation could easily escalate into a full-blown duel."

Hermione blinked up at him, furrowing her brow as she saw amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Of course I would win," Tom supplied haughtily. "You would apologize for attacking me so insidiously. And we'd have the best make-up sex ever."

Tom lowered his head and placed a light kiss on her lips.

"Let's just skip the duel and move on to the reconciliation."

Hermione released a shuddered breath of air as she stared into his eyes. Tom smirked at her provocatively as his hand continued its journey down her belly. He moved slowly, lazily. Yet his touch evoked pleasant shivers to run over Hermione's skin. She trembled in forbidden anticipation.

Maybe she should stop him, but somehow Hermione couldn't bring herself to move. His hand wandered down between her legs. Tom's smirk got even more pronounced as his fingers danced over her soft flesh, finding the dampness. Hermione moaned as he started to rub the spot where she needed him the most now. A soft chuckle washed over her. Then Tom's lips greedily kissed her skin, quickly reaching her breasts. Hermione gasped softly as he started to use his tongue. He licked over her nipple, playing with it. Then he sucked it into his mouth and Hermione's breath became laboured.

Abruptly two of his fingers entered her and she screamed out, her voice hoarse with need. Tom quickly thrust his fingers in and out of her while his thumb continued to flick over that little nub. All the while his lips were still busy biting and licking her breasts. Helplessly, Hermione drowned in her own lust and she wriggled under Tom's touches. Her arousal reached a new high and she felt ready to burst.

It was then that Tom suddenly stopped. His fingers and lips were removed from her body and Hermione almost screamed out in frustration. Her eyes flashed to his face only to find a smirk around his lips.

"For being so reluctant," Tom stated silkily. "You sure are enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

Hermione blushed furiously as she looked up at him. He was right, too. She was his captive, held imprisoned by his touches and kisses. Tom smirked darkly as he saw her reaction. Abruptly he bent down to her and engaged her in a rather aggressive kiss. As he ended the kiss, his lips still touched hers softly and he stared down at her. He was so near, they were sharing the same air. His blue eyes were boring into hers and Hermione could see dark desire dancing in them.

"I need you now," Tom told her. "I'm not going to wait any longer."

The firmness of his voice sent shivers all over her body. Tom put a hand lightly on her stomach before he whispered an incantation. Then he grabbed her thighs and abruptly moved her legs apart. Hermione shuddered as Tom positioned himself between her thighs. Before she could voice anything, his mouth crashed down on hers, kissing her furiously. It was then that Hermione heard the sound of a zipper being opened. Lust still clouded her mind but a bout of anxiety hit her now. For the first time since Tom had started this, Hermione moved her hands to touch him. They trembled because she was scared of what was about to happen as she raised them and slipped her arms around him.

Tom's body now lay on top of her and he moved closer to her between her legs. Hermione's breathing hitched as she felt him against her entrance. She tensed up as he then slowly moved into her tight passage. It hurt and she whimpered softly. He stopped and Hermione released a trembling breath of air. She was very tense, only shadows of her previous desire curled around her body. Tom leaned down to her.

"Hermione?"

She had her eyes closed but felt how he brushed his lips against hers. It was a tender kiss and he didn't deepen it. Slowly she opened her eyes and stared up at Tom's handsome face. He smiled at her reassuringly, and said,

"You said you trusted me, didn't you?"

Hermione felt mesmerized by those blue eyes gazing at her. Tom's magic crackled in the air. It softly licked over her body and tugged at the Dark Mark on her arm, pulsing through her whole body. It felt quite pleasant.

"Do you still trust me?" Tom's velvety voice inquired.

Hermione's mind was wiped off all thoughts. The magic thrumming in the air and Tom's body so close by threw Hermione back into a world free of thoughts where only sensation, desire and lust reigned. She felt compelled to nod her head. The smile on Tom's face widened as he saw it. He bent down to her and kissed her, his tongue licking over her lips. Then he buried his face into the crook of her neck and breathed in deeply.

"You can always trust me," he promised her. "I'll take care of you."

One of his hands skimmed down the side of her body and grabbed her hip. Then Hermione felt Tom again starting to move into her, slower now. She moaned softly as she was stretched. It still hurt a bit, but it wasn't so bad anymore. Hermione's hands on Tom's back curled into fists, grabbing his shirt tightly. Soon he was completely lodged inside of her. He stayed like that for a moment, allowing her to adjust to his presence.

Hermione grabbed him even tighter as Tom then started to slowly move in and out of her. It hurt as she was stretched each time he entered her. But as he maintained the steady rhythm, the pain slowly diminished and turned into something else. Hermione's hands on his back relaxed a bit, as she came to enjoy that friction of his movement inside of her. A soft moan left her lips. As Tom heard that, a hand wandered between their heated bodies. His fingers danced over her skin, down between her legs and Hermione gasped as he started to stroke her little nub. A burning urge emerged and it got even worse as Tom sped up. He was pumping in and out of her faster now and Hermione moaned softly. He grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Her hips now in a different position, she felt him entering her even deeper, filling her completely. Aching desire raged in Hermione's body and she moaned helplessly. She desperately clutched Tom as she felt herself teetering on the brink of bursting. Her hands wandered to his hair and Hermione pulled demandingly at his dark silky locks, ruining his perfect hairstyle.

Tom seemed to know what she wanted. He moaned softly as he yet again sped up, his hands tightly holding her hips in place. Hermione could feel herself starting to fall over the edge. The next time he thrust into her in one stroke, she cried out. The demanding urge burst and turned into a wave of pleasure that broke down on her. Her whole body tensed as she was carried away by that wonderful feeling.

Pleasant shivers ran all over her and Hermione moaned contently. Her muscles were still convulsing around him as Tom entered her again and again. A moan fell from his lips as he thrust into her one last time, staying lodged deep inside of her. Hermione could feel him emptying himself inside of her. Then Tom's body fell down on her and he laid there for a while. His head rested next to hers and she could hear his ragged breathing slowly calming down while she felt him growing soft inside of her. Hermione's fingers were still buried in his soft hair. Now, though, she didn't pull violently, but stroked it gently.

As he had finally caught his breath again, Tom gently pulled himself out of her and rolled off her so he lay on the bed right beside her. Now that her climax had subsided, Hermione felt her lower body sting slightly. Her thoughts also came back to her and she remembered who exactly the person was, lying right beside her. Hermione wanted to roll onto her side and curl into a ball, but she didn't dare to move. So she lay there, eyes closed, not really knowing what to do next.

It was then that she felt a hand on her stomach. Arms slid around her, turning her so that she lay on her side with a body pressed against her back. His arms encased her, holding her gently.

"How are you feeling?" Tom's voice whispered softly to her.

Surprised by the tenderness in his tone, she answered truthfully, "I don't know."

He just pressed her tighter against him. Then she felt his soft lips kissing the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry those security guards hurt you. I didn't know they would be in the manor."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **The last sad hour of freedom's dream,**  


**And valour's task, moved slowly by,**

**While mute they watch'd, till morning's beam**

**Should rise and give them light to die.**

**There's yet a world, where souls are free,**

**Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss; –**

**If death that world's bright opening be,**

**Oh! who would live a slave in this?'**

**\- Thomas Moore**

  
**(*1779** **† 1852)**   



	18. Bullet in Your Brain

_**Assassination attempt on Dolores Umbridge** _

_Madame Dolores Jane Umbridge, Head of the Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines and honourable Member of the Wizengamot, attended a private soiree this last weekend as an attempt on her life was made. Luckily, no-one was injured during the attack. Madame Umbridge herself remains to be unharmed and was able to return to her duties at the Department._

_In the official statement, the Ministry's spokesperson, Bartemius Crouch Jr., reports that Madame Umbridge's intention to attend the mentioned soiree was classified information. How the attackers learned of her presence is yet unknown. Although there were no indications to this attack beforehand, Madame Umbridge was accompanied by the Department's own security personnel. These precautions helped to avoid further escalation of the situation. According to Mr Crouch Jr., the identity and motivation of the attackers is yet unknown. However, a close affiliation to the terrorist group known as the 'Order of the Phoenix' and their self-proclaimed leader, Sirius Black, is highly likely. (for more information read pg. 4 to 6)_

_That_ , Riddle thought, slightly miffed,  _might develop into a problem_. With a tired sigh he again scanned the article. At least, the stolen locket was no-where mentioned. The Prophet laid the whole blame of this 'terrorist attack' on the Order of the Phoenix – which was perfectly fine with Tom – but was that also what the Aurors suspected? It was laughably predictable that the Prophet should blame Sirius Black. That man had slowly turned into a scapegoat, it seemed. Sooner or later they would go and blame an increase of taxes on the man, too. Tom smirked down at the newspaper. The smile dropped quickly from his lips as his eyes again wandered over Umbridge's name. How annoying. The Head of the Department of Bloodlines had seen Tom's Mudblood. That really was the last thing he needed. Umbridge was known for being quite vindictive. Surely, Hermione's attack on her person wasn't something the woman would forget soon.

Tom peered at his little Mudblood. She sat at the Gryffindor table with her nose buried in another copy of the Daily Prophet, probably stolen from one of her seat neighbours. As if sensing his stare, Hermione looked up from the Prophet. Her eyes immediately sought him out. Tom spotted a satisfying blush settling on her cheeks as she looked at him. Her gaze quickly dropped to the Prophet in front of her, probably re-reading the headline, then back to him. Helplessly, Hermione shrugged her shoulders. Again Tom sighed. That was probably all the apology he would get out of her for that disaster at Smith's manor. To be fair, he couldn't even really blame her. While a bit more stealth on Hermione's part would have been preferable, it wasn't her fault that Umbridge had brought her own team of bodyguards. And in the end, Hermione  _had_  managed to secure Slytherin's Locket.

Tom folded the newspaper and slipped it into his satchel. The Umbridge problem wasn't something he would be able to solve straightaway. It wasn't pressing either. It might even disappear without him interfering. After all, Tom had been very careful to not leave any leads behind as he had brought Hermione to Hogwarts. Umbridge would be hard pressed to find any connection between Hermione Rookwood and the Mudblood 'Penny'. Even if Hermione was exposed, there was no way the whole thing could be traced back to Tom. He was safe. Then again, Tom found himself unwilling to lose Hermione. She was very useful. He doubted any of his Knights would have been able to procure the locket for him. Not even Bellatrix. She was too rash for delicate missions.

Tom got up from Slytherin table and trailed towards the doors. He motioned for Hermione to follow him. It was quite satisfying to see her hastily scramble up from her seat to obey him. Tom had already left the Great Hall as the girl finally caught up with him. He glanced at her through the corners of his eyes. Hair messy, face slightly flushed and heavy school bag in her hand, Hermione obediently walked beside him.

"I hope you enjoyed your debut in the Daily Prophet?" Tom asked dryly.

Hermione's dark brown eyes shyly travelled over him, obviously trying to see if he was angry with her. Tom wasn't in the mood to make it easy for her and hid any emotion behind an unreadable mask. The Mudblood worried her lower lip, probably searching for an appropriate apology.

"Well…" Hermione finally said. "At least they didn't take a photo?"

She threw him a disarming grin and Tom cocked an eyebrow. The Mudblood was rather cheeky today, wasn't she? Well, he might let this one slide. As Tom's cold gaze raked over her body, his eyes narrowed as he noticed a slight limp in her walk. His magic flared in irritation as he remembered that deep cut Hermione had received yesterday. Certainly not something he had planned. All because Umbridge had decided to show up, that bothersome woman, and because of Hermione's own inattentiveness. Now riled up even more, Tom's magic greedily reached out for Hermione and he felt inclined to simply follow the magic's lead. Sliding closer to the Mudblood, he snaked an arm around her waist and decidedly pulled her against his body. Wisely, Hermione didn't protest, but accepted the contact.

"See to it that there'll never be a repeat performance of your run-in with Umbridge," Tom said evenly, dangerous tint to his voice.

Hermione's eyes were submissively lowered to the ground as she nodded quickly. It seemed her previous boldness had suddenly drained from her. Tom frowned at her. The girl was suspiciously tense under his touch and a pink hue now coloured her cheeks.

It didn't take him long to connect the dots.

_Ah, yes,_  he thought amusedly. He had completely forgotten about their little romp in that hostel bedroom yesterday. A sly smirk blossomed on Riddle's face as the memories re-emerged. It had been quite enjoyable, hadn't it? He should have taken her sooner. Just to fluster her a bit more, Tom bent down to her and whispered into her ear,

"That school uniform looks good on you. Makes me want to rip it off your body."

He took malicious joy watching Hermione splutter. The pink blush on her face turned a few shades darker and she stared up at him with wide eyes. Tom looked at her, a veneer of indifference hiding his every emotion.

"Erm… that's…" she stuttered pathetically. "You… I really don't think…"

Completely ignoring the girl's embarrassment, Tom asked innocently as if nothing had happened,

"What's your first class today? Ancient Runes?"

Hermione mumbled something and nodded her head, never taking her eyes from the floor. Her fingers fiddled restlessly with the hem of her shirt. The girl was practically radiating nervousness. Tom could feel a smirk curling his lips. Surely it couldn't be  _him_ that made the little Mudblood so tense, he wondered sanctimoniously.

"Don't be shy now, my dear," Tom purred seductively. "I know you had fun yesterday."

The embarrassed blush didn't leave Hermione's face, but he could see her peering at him through the corners of her eyes. Then a small, almost unnoticeable, smile tugged at her lips. A self-satisfied expression drifted over Tom's features. By now they had reached the staircase and he turned to descend it to get to his Arithmancy classroom. Before he left, he ordered Hermione,

"Meet me in the Slytherin common room later. Not the Heads' dorm."

Tom expected her to scurry off the her own classroom at his dismissal. Hermione, though, had other plans. The Mudblood suddenly took a step towards him. Without saying anything, not even asking him for permission, she stood on her tiptoes and hastily pressed her mouth against his own. He could feel her lips curving up in a grin. Still with her lips against his, she whispered teasingly,

"The school uniform looks good on you, too."

Tom was paralysed by surprise and didn't react at all. Hermione ended the kiss as quickly as she had started it. Then she mumbled a soft,

"See you later."

Before she turned and hurried away, Tom spotted that small grin on her face. He still hadn't moved, taken aback by her bold actions. Her curly hair bounced agitatedly as Hermione quickly walked away. Involuntarily, a smirk spread on Tom's face.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

For the rest of the school day, Hermione found her thoughts often straying to Riddle. Even after classes, as she sat in the Gryffindor common room, she still pondered her strange master. And he  _was_  a strange master, wasn't he? Not that Hermione had had many different masters in her life. Most of her time, she had served at Malfoy manor. Still, she had met her fair share of wizards, and not one had been like Riddle. Yesterday, in that hostel room, Riddle hadn't necessarily been gentle – he had known what he wanted and had taken it from her – but he didn't  _just_  take. He never just took. He also gave something back. Sleeping with him had been Hermione's first time. It had been nice, very much so. It hadn't suddenly changed her whole world, but still Hermione had enjoyed herself a lot, which was, sadly enough, a surprise.

Hermione smiled as her thoughts again drifted to that hostel room. Pleasant shivers ran down her spine as she remembered the soft kisses Tom had placed on her skin, his fingers that had fondled her. He hadn't just considered his own desires, but hers as well. And wasn't that simply strange? Just as strange as him allowing her to attend Hogwarts. Or him buying books for her. Yes, Riddle indeed was a strange master. Strange enough, at least, so that Hermione felt weird thinking of him as her  _master_  at all. Draco had been her master, or Lucius, but not Tom. He was different.

Hermione flinched as a satchel was thrown beside her on the couch. It was shortly followed by a red-head hopping over the back-rest of the couch and slouching down beside Hermione.

"Hermione." Ginny beamed widely. "There you are."

Hermione threw the red-head a small smile. Ginny, not being impressed at all by the shyness, slapped Hermione on the back.

"Haven't seen you all weekend. Where were you?"

"Er…" mumbled Hermione, grasping for a lie. "In the library? I had to do a lot of homework."

"Yeah, that sucks, doesn't it?" Ginny scrunched up her nose. "Wait? The library is open at weekends?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard that. Before she could lecture Ginny, though, the red-head laughed at her.

"Don't flip, bookworm. I was just kidding."

She threw Hermione a wide grin, before she reached for a copy of The Quibbler that was lying on the side table. Hermione watched amusedly as the red-head started to read something, holding the magazine upside down.

"What have  _you_  been doing this weekend?" she inquired softly.

Ginny peered at her. "Quidditch."

At Hermione's questioningly raised eyebrows, she elaborated, "We're playing Ravenclaw in three weeks. And they're real good this year." Ginny rolled her eyes. "So, Johnson freaked and we're having extra trainings sessions."

"I see." Nodded Hermione.

"Are you into Quidditch?" Ginny asked, flinging The Quibbler back on the table.

Hermione hesitated, nervousness bubbling up in her. Frankly, she didn't know much about the sport. Did normal witches know this stuff? She remembered, back in Malfoy manor, Draco had often rambled about it with his friends. Together with Lucius he had also visited the Quidditch World Cup's final a few years back. Obviously Ireland had beat Bulgaria back then, but that was as far as Hermione's Quidditch knowledge went.

"Er…" she mumbled insecurely. "Not so much…?"

Immediately Ginny's eyes widened almost comically.

"Not into Quidditch?!" the red-head exclaimed dramatically, grabbing her chest. "How's that possible? You're worse than mum."

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her sleeves, feeling quite insecure. Ginny didn't seem to notice.

"You know what?" she said enthusiastically. "There's a trainings session today, too. You wanna come and watch?"

†

Hermione furrowed her brow as she tried to keep track of what was going on down on the pitch. Red and golden coloured blotches were flying by at high speed, tossing the Quaffle at each other or the goal hoops. Occasionally Hermione could get a glimpse of a Bludger rushing by before it was swatted away by a bat. In short, it was total chaos and she wondered if that sport had any kind of rules.

"Oi, Dean!" a voice yelled from beside Hermione. "Stop the Cobbing!"

Hermione glanced at her seat-neighbour just as Dean flew by and yelled his reply,

"Shut it, Ron!"

Ron, lounging on the bench, grinned widely at his friend and languidly leaned back in his seat, lazily depositing his feet on the back rest of the bench in front of him.

"Aw," he sighed amusedly. "They're lost without me."

Hermione merely cocked an eyebrow at him. Ron, as he had already told her at great length, was the Gryffindor team's Keeper. Unfortunately, he had strained his shoulder during last practice and had to sit this one out.

"You like it?" Ron asked, pursing his lips as he scanned Hermione.

"Well… It's…" Hermione frowned down at the pitch. "A bit chaotic?"

Ron laughed as he heard that. "That's half the fun of it."

Hermione squinted her eyes as she stared down to the pitch. "I see…"

"Pff, you're not convinced?" Ron replied, still grinning. "Let me explain the rules to you."

Hermione listened as Ron jumped into a surprisingly complex set of rules and regulations. The only thing that sport missed was obviously some safety instructions. Hermione really couldn't see how this was in any way fun. They were risking their necks down there.

"And then we lost against the Falmouth Falcons," Ron continued to babble, having long since left the Quidditch rules behind. "You can imagine how annoyed I was. Still, a Chudley Cannon fan through and through. I was also there when we played Pride of Portee. I tell you, we almost won. If it hadn't been for that attack…" Ron shook his head in disappointment. "Game was cancelled and the stadium evacuated."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What happened?"

Ron unfixed his gaze from the pitch and peered at her. "You don't remember? Ah well, it's almost… what? Three years now? That was shortly after Sirius Black escaped… The Order kinda attacked a Ministry building in Portee. It was near the stadium. So… yeah, cancelled game. And I didn't even get my money back."

Instantly, Hermione's thoughts shot back to that Prophet article. It was Sirius Black, supposed leader of the Order of the Phoenix, who now got blamed for Hermione's break-in at Smith manor. She did feel a bit guilty about it, but also relieved. At least no-one suspected her.

"Like the Order of the Phoenix would attack a Quidditch stadium," Ron huffed indignantly. "That's just stupid."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, thoughts circling around Sirius Black. She remembered the day he had escaped prison. Lucius Malfoy had been scandalized, badmouthing the lax security in Azkaban for days. On top of that, Hermione had had to listen to Narcissas's ramblings about how such a thing would have never happened if only Grindelwald were still alive. It had been quite tedious.

"Is that already three years ago…?" Hermione mused pensively.

"Yep." Ron nodded importantly. "Time runs by, eh?"

"Do you think Black's really the leader of the Order?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Ron leaned back in his seat and furrowed his brow in consideration. "Well, no-one knows for sure. Aside from what the Prophet claims… it's everyone's guess."

Hermione nodded and asked shyly, "What do  _you_  think?"

"Me?" Ron peered at her. "Hm…"

He pondered that for a moment, before he said, grin in place, "You know what? I kinda think it's true. I mean Black escaped Azkaban, didn't he? That's supposed to be impossible. So, he's badass. Why  _shouldn't_  he be the leader of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Hermione didn't have an answer. So, she simply nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

{{{{{{{{+ }}}}}}}}

"I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses, Rosier," Riddle said, malice lurking in his otherwise unperturbed voice.

Regulus was glad that he stood far away from Riddle at this very moment. Even from the back of the room, he could feel Riddle's dark, aggressive magic saturating the air. Regulus wished he could be somewhere else. The cold stone walls of the dungeon room were horribly oppressive; the gloomy atmosphere didn't help either. He couldn't leave, though. The Knights of Walpurgis were assembled, standing in a reverent distance around their Master. Riddle stood in the middle of the room, dark magic storming around him, while Evan Rosier knelt before him. Regulus was incredibly grateful that it wasn't him kneeling there. Although, Riddle's expression was blank, on the verge of being polite even, Regulus knew it to be a mask. Hidden underneath all that calmness, he knew a monster was raging, ready to pounce.

Considering Rosier through icy cold eyes, Riddle inquired composedly, "I did tell you to keep your mouths shut, did I not?"

There was an indulgent smile twisting Riddle's lips as he regarded Rosier. Cold chills ran down Regulus' spine as he saw that smile. It was a horrible lie. Riddle's real intentions could be seen smouldering viciously in his eyes. It twisted Riddle's innocent expression into something grotesque, menacing. Regulus swallowed nervously. Rosier must have spotted the danger, too, as he now bowed deeply to Riddle, trembling all over.

"I- I didn't revealed anything, I swear," Evan stuttered, desperately trying to ban the panic from his voice. "J- Jugson wants to join. He's genuine. Please, believe me."

Riddle laughed at that. The cruelty of his sadistic amusement echoed mercilessly from the cold stone walls.

"Believe you?" he inquired, faux innocence seeping through his words. "Should I?"

"M- My Lord," Rosier whispered, terrified quiver in his tone. "Jugson is a good spell caster. He'd serve you well."

The twisted smile abruptly dropped from Riddle's face, exposing it as the lie it had always been. His eyes frosted over and a baleful look crept on his fine features, turning them into something dark, sinister. Riddle's voice was barely louder than a whisper as he inquired poignantly,

"What about the term of ' _secret_  society' did you not understand, Rosier?"

Riddle's voice, although quite, could be clearly heard in every corner of the room. It cut the silence like a sharp blade. Regulus could feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand on-end as Riddle's furious magic washed over the room. Rosier trembled violently now. He was kneeling in front of the tall figure of Riddle, bowing so deep his forehead touched the floor.

"P- please, My Lord," he stammered, begging for mercy. "I- I didn't… didn't betray our cause. I w- would never… Jugson is trustworth-"

"Silence," Riddle hissed, his fury tightly wrapped around the word.

Immediately, Rosier obeyed and fell silent. A terrible smirk spread over Riddle's face as he looked down at his kneeling follower.

"How tragic, that you seem to be unable to understand that simple, little request of mine," Riddle whispered, the mockery of concern dripping from his cold voice. "You are lucky, though. I am willing to assist you."

Regulus felt sick as he heard that twisted worry. Even though it wasn't him kneeling before Riddle, he was terrified by that dark wizard. Riddle still smiled as if there was nothing wrong. Then, suddenly, he grabbed Rosier's shoulder and brutally forced him to the ground. Rosier gasped painfully as Riddle, one knee on Rosier's chest, pressed him with his back tightly against the floor. The disturbing smile never dropped from Riddle's face as he scanned the fear on Rosier's face. Regulus felt disgusted as he spotted the vile excitement on Bellatrix face while she watched Riddle with adoration in her eyes.

Riddle smiled serenely as he grabbed Rosier's jaw and forced his mouth open. Regulus could see how Rosier's body twitched, but even though he tried to claw at Riddle, his hands could never made contact.

"What a messy business," Riddle pondered lightly. He peered at Rosier's eyes and added smilingly, "You're lucky to have me to put things right."

Then he raised his other hand and somehow managed to grab Rosier's tongue. There must have been some sort of magic involved as Riddle easily wrenched at the tongue. Regulus watched on in horror as Riddle then raised his wand. Rosier's eyes widened with horrified realization while tears of panic and fear rolled down his face.

Riddle threw a last glance at Rosier and assured, sadistic tinge to his voice, "It is my pleasure."

Without any form of hesitation, Riddle moved his wand over the tongue, magic turning the wand's tip into a sharp blade. A gurgled scream of pain left Rosier as the blade cut into the tissue. The cruel amusement never left Riddle's face as he easily sliced with his magic through Rosier's tongue. He completely severed the appendage and an incredible amount of blood rushed from the stump. It flowed into Rosier's mouth, down his chin and cheeks. Some of it also splattered Riddle's hands, but he didn't seem to care much. He scanned the severed tongue for a moment, twisted curiosity in his eyes, before he threw it away. Regulus winced as the tongue made a disgusting wet sound as is impacted with the stone floor.

Then Riddle seemed to completely lose any interest in Rosier. He stood up gracefully, completely ignoring the agonized screams from the Slytherin on the floor. One snap of Riddle's fingers and the blood disappeared from him, leaving him as pristine as ever. Meanwhile Rosier still twisted and squirmed on the floor, screaming in pain, while blood gushed from his mouth. Riddle didn't even look down at his victim. Terrible smile curling his mouth, he turned towards his other followers. Regulus stiffened, fear mounting up in him. The dark wizard, though, simply stated, smiling contently,

"Meeting concluded."

With that he clapped his hands together and turned for the door, gesturing for them to follow. Neither Regulus, nor any of the others dared to disobey. Before Riddle opened the door, he paused shortly, pondering something. Then, smirk still in place, he turned around again.

"If you are really fast," he told a now crying Rosier. ", and take that tongue of yours to the hospital wing, I'm sure they can stitch it back on. Best of luck."

With that Riddle swept from the room. Regulus trotted after him like a puppet. He felt horrible for leaving Rosier like this. They had never been friends, but still…

Regulus was too afraid to defy Riddle, though.

So, he followed the others, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing he wanted was to somehow incur Riddle's wrath. They quickly left the secluded part of the dungeons behind and just passed the Grand Staircase as Riddle stopped. The Knights stopped as well, still keeping their reverential distance. Cautiously, Regulus followed Riddle's gaze. He raised his eyebrows as he spotted Hermione Rookwood climbing down the stairs. She stopped shortly as she spotted Riddle, but then quickly walked towards him. Riddle glanced at the girl and Regulus swallowed nervously as he spotted a dangerous glint in the other's eyes. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't seem to notice the upcoming storm but smiled up at Riddle. That innocent smile playing around her lips made Regulus want to grab her and shake her. Was she so blind, so naïve? Didn't she know what she was getting herself into? He wanted to yell at her, make her open her eyes and see the horrible truth. As always, though, Regulus' hands were bound and he was condemned to silently watch.

"Hermione," Riddle said silkily. There was a sinister undercurrent in his tone. "You are late."

Ice cold chills darted down Regulus' spine as he heard that tone of voice. Riddle seemed to be calm, unconcerned, but that was a mask. It always was. Regulus couldn't understand how no-one could ever see the horrors that were sealed up behind Riddle's façade of the innocent Head Boy. To his trepidation he watched Hermione stepping a bit closer to Riddle, still with that innocent smile in place. What she should do, would be cowering away, apologizing.

"No, I'm not late," she dared to contradict Riddle.

Regulus sucked in a sharp breath of air. The corridor they were in was quite deserted and, frankly, Riddle had cursed people for less. Regulus worried his lower lips nervously. Bellatrix, who stood right beside him, had that well-known sadistic glint in her eyes as she watched Hermione like a hawk.

Instead of simply cursing the girl, though, Riddle demanded to know, "Where were you?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. Rather than being terrified by the sharp request, her face lit up. Regulus blinked in surprise as the girl even dared to reach for Riddle's hand and hold it in her own. Oddly enough the Head Boy didn't lash out at the audacity but allowed her to touch him.

"I was at the Quidditch pitch," Hermione informed happily. "The Gryffindor team had their practice. And Ginny wanted me to come and watch."

Riddle's frosty eyes glinted forebodingly as he scanned the girl. With a sharp hand gesture, he signalled for his Knights to follow him. Then he led Hermione towards the Slytherin common room. The girl walked beside Riddle, completely oblivious to the dark magic flowing around the wizard. Regulus couldn't understand it. How could she not notice that aggressive magic in the air?

"After the practice," Hermione continued chattily. "Ginny allowed me to try riding on her broom."

The Gryffindor smiled blithefully up at Riddle, still grabbing his hand.

"Did you ever ride a broom?" she asked merrily.

Regulus furrowed his brow in concern. If it hadn't been so dangerous, he would have called the situation almost funny. Here Riddle was, surrounded by his henchmen, and had a chatty Gryffindor girl hanging from his arm. A Gryffindor girl who didn't seem to be able to see the darkness lurking underneath the surface.

"In fact, I did," was Riddle's curt reply to Hermione's naïve question.

His tone was low, venom lacing the words. Yet again, Hermione didn't notice the danger she was in. She beamed up at Riddle and continued unconcernedly,

"It's difficult. I don't think I'm going to try it again. And it's dangerous, too. I almost dropped. Are you sure it's okay allowing students to ride brooms? Quidditch seems to be rather injury-prone."

By now they had reached the common room entrance and Riddle entered it, dragging Hermione. There was a predatory smirk hanging from his lips as he looked down at the girl. Regulus was quite concerned. Maybe he didn't want to  _do_  anything out in the open and waited until they reached the safety of the common room?

"I'm not necessarily a fan of Quidditch either," Riddle finally replied. "Unfortunately, not even the Head Boy can ban that sport from Hogwarts."

Hermione shrugged and said reasonably, "Well, I guess a lot of people like it. I mean, there's the Quidditch Cup and everything. Ginny told me Gryffindor'll win it this year."

She pursed her lips contemplatively, before she jumped right into a rather lengthy explanation on how the Quidditch Cup was awarded and which house was most likely to get it this year. Regulus watched in bemusement as Riddle sat down on one of the couches, Hermione beside him, and let her chatter wash over him. Regulus knew how much the other detested Quidditch, and yet the dark wizard didn't do anything to stop Hermione's flood of words. Riddle didn't exactly seem to listen to the girl, but Regulus knew that normally the Head Boy would have cursed anyone who dared to heap that much chitter-chatter on him. Surprisingly, the dark wizard didn't harm Hermione in any way. What was he playing at?

"It's some kind of hovering charm on the broom stick and an acceleration spell on the brush," Hermione explained, not discouraged by Riddle's inattention. "And a cushion spell. But I don't really know how you are supposed to control them. My broom just bucked, you see. I almost fell."

"It's just a sport," Riddle remarked, while flipping in a book. "You don't  _have_  to be good at it, Hermione."

"Yes, you are probably right," Hermione said contemplatively.

Regulus almost choked as he heard that. ' _You are_ _probably_ _right'_?! No-one dared to speak to Riddle like that. He always expected complete deference. Again, the wizard didn't seem to mind the insolence and simply shrugged dismissively. Through the corners of his eyes, Regulus could see the others following this bizarre conversation as well. Every pair of Slytherin eyes was focused on Riddle. Bellatrix even fiddled agitatedly with her wand, obviously wishing to curse Hermione.

"I prefer Apparition," Hermione continued. "It's faster and a lot safer. What do you think?"

Riddle peered at her and supplied boredly, "It's definitely better than using a broom stick."

His eye narrowed at the girl. Then he abruptly changed the subject, inquiring sternly, "Didn't Beery return your essays today? What grade did you get?"

His voice suggested that he wouldn't be pleased at all, should Hermione's essay not meet his standards. Yet again, the girl didn't seem in the least bit jittery under Riddle's scrutiny. If possible, her face lit up even more. She dove for her bag and pulled a roll of parchment out of it. Pride dancing in her eyes merrily, she handed the roll to Riddle. And before the wizard could unroll the parchment, she blurted,

"I got an 'O'."

"Hm," was Riddle's only comment as he skimmed over the essay.

Hermione watched him as his eyes flew over her essay. Then she had the audacity to interrupt Riddle by suggesting hopefully,

"Maybe we can work together on the next essay."

Regulus held his breath, fear bubbling up in him as he stared at Riddle. Disturbing Riddle when he was reading something was the single most stupid thing anyone could do. Yet again, the Head Boy did not react to Hermione's insolence with violence, but just glanced at the girl. Regulus almost shook his head in surprise. He couldn't imagine what could be  _worse_  than working with Riddle on any essay. Riddle simply cocked an eyebrow at the Gryffindor girl and decided imperiously,

"We will write the essay about the Confusing Concoction together. You're lagging behind in Potions."

Now the girl was pouting at Riddle. Seriously,  _pouting_. Regulus didn't know what was happening anymore. If Riddle had raised his hand now and punched the girl, Regulus wouldn't have been surprised at all. Once again, though, there was nothing. Just a smirk curled the Head Boy's lips.

"I am  _not_  lagging behind," Hermione insisted sulkily. "…maybe in the practical part. But certainly not in potions theory."

She didn't even wait for Riddle's reply. Instead she pursed her lips, obviously thinking about something.

"What time is it anyway?" Hermione inquired.

Without asking for permission, she grabbed Riddle's arm and checked his wristwatch. By now, Regulus had stopped being dumbfounded by Riddle's lenience. He simply continued to fearfully watch this disaster-in-progress.

"Rather late…" Hermione pondered. Then she looked up at Riddle and asked, "Are you going back to the Heads' common room soon?"

Riddle scanned her with his frosty eyes as if contemplating to murder her. But then he just nodded and declared, "I'm finished here. I'll accompany you to the Gryffindor tower."

"Okay." The Gryffindor girl smiled at him. "Thank you."

Smiling happily, Hermione reached for her bag. As she grabbed the bag's strap, her brown eyes fell on Regulus. He stiffened as her attention switched from Riddle to him.

"Regulus," Hermione said amiably.

"Yes…?" Regulus whispered cautiously, trying to ignore Riddle's gaze resting heavily on him.

Hermione completely ignored Riddle now in favour of Regulus. Still smiling softly, she said,

"Do you remember, we wanted to study for Ancient Runes together? Do you still want to? I have time tomorrow. We could meet in the library."

"Erm… okay?" Regulus replied without thinking.

Too late, he threw an inconspicuous glance at Riddle and stiffened anxiously as he found the Head Boy was glaring at him darkly. Riddle obviously did not appreciate how Hermione paid Regulus more attention than him. Quickly, Regulus averted his eyes, heart thrumming fearfully in his chest.

"Great," Hermione said happily. "See you then."

Then she stood up from the couch and slung her bag over her shoulder. She looked back down at Riddle who still glowered darkly at Regulus.

"Are you coming?" she prodded the dark wizard, almost impatiently.

Riddle's frosty gaze finally left Regulus. He glanced up at Hermione, nodded and stood up. Regulus watched with confusion as Riddle quietly followed Hermione out of the common room. He wasn't by far the only one who had observed this whole conversation. All the other present Slytherins had similar expressions of surprise and disbelief on their faces.

†

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked concernedly as she peered at Riddle.

The Slytherin walked beside her and hadn't said anything since they had left the common room. Now Tom's blue eyes blinked down at her. A smile appeared on his features. It was strangely thin, though, as if simply conjured up without meaning.

"Of course," Riddle replied in his velvety voice.

They continued up the stairs, again in silence. It was only as they reached the seventh floor and sauntered down a deserted corridor that Tom spoke again.

"So…" he said, innocently raising an eyebrow at her. "Do you like Black?"

"Regulus?" Hermione inquired, furrowing her forehead. "Yeah… I guess so."

After that, Tom was suspiciously quite. He walked beside her, apparently deep in thought. Hermione was confused by his behaviour.

"He's your friend, isn't he?" she finally asked. "That means he's alright, doesn't it?" Shortly Hermione hesitated, but then couldn't stop herself to add ominously, "Then again… not to be insulting or anything, but some of your friends are kind of… erm, scary?"

That finally managed to banish the dark scowl from Riddle's face. The corners of his lips curled up and he laughed softly.

"Are they?" he inquired sanctimoniously.

Hearing that, Hermione grinned up at him. She rolled her eyes and said, sarcasm thick in her voice, "Yes, I'm sure it comes at as a surprise to you."

Smirk still in place, Riddle's white teeth glinted down at her and he teased, "So, you're scared of my friends, are you?"

"Pff." Hermione made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "No, certainly not."

"Hm… Is that so?" Riddle purred, now a seductive tint to his voice.

He had stopped walking and pushed Hermione roughly against the corridor wall. The smirk never slipped from his face as his hands ran over her arms, pinning her against the wall. He bent down to her and whispered to her, lips lightly brushing the shell of her ear,

"Maybe it's me you should be afraid of."

Hermione felt pleasant chills running up and down her spine as she felt him so near. Before she could retort anything, Riddle grabbed her chin, raised her face and forcefully crashed his mouth against hers. The weight of his body grinded her hard against the stone wall while his tongue explored her mouth. Tom's kiss was very demanding and he held her tightly so she could not escape him. Surprisingly, Hermione realised that despite Riddle's… a  _wizard's_  aggressive acts there was no fear welling up in her.

Sure Tom was her master, but had he ever hurt her? She had to admit that he could be intimidating at times, but he had never really raised his hand against her. It was strange but even now as Riddle was so close to her and engaged her in a rather bruising kiss, Hermione did not feel frightened. On the contrary, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed his nearness and felt quite safe in his arms.

One of Riddle's hands found its way into Hermione's curly hair. He grabbed a fistful and pulled harshly, forcing her head back. She gasped softly. Tom bent down to her and placed kisses on the line of her jaw. Hermione closed her eyes and a small smile appeared on her face. Although Riddle held her tightly and her throat was exposed like this, the ever-present fear still did not come back to her. Hermione imagined this happening a few months ago as she still had been in Malfoy manor. Before she had known Riddle, she would have died of fear if a wizard had forced himself on her like this.

Riddle's touches were still possessive and demanding. His lips reached the sensitive skin of her neck and Hermione felt teeth nipping her. A hand was still tangled in her curly hair, holding her in place, while Tom's other hand had grabbed her waist, effectively stopping her from moving. Strangely enough, Hermione found that she did not want to get away from him anyway. His nearness felt wonderful.

As Tom continued to plant possessive kisses on the skin of her neck, Hermione couldn't hold back anymore. His soft lips tickled her and a giggle burst from her. Hearing this, Tom stopped abruptly and straightened up. He stared down at her and Hermione couldn't help but grin. His eyebrows shot up as he saw the amusement twinkling in her eyes. A look of genuine surprise washed over his handsome features. The grin on Hermione's face widened until she was positively beaming at him. She raised a hand and ran her fingers through his thick black hair, completely mussing it up. Tom still just stared at her, flabbergasted and completely frozen in place by her 'audacity'. Hermione's hand reached the back of his neck and she tugged at him. He didn't resist her and let himself being pulled down to her. The smile still stretched across her lips as she brushed them against his. As he felt her against him, Tom was pulled from his stupor and started to return her kiss.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The next day after classes, Hermione strolled into the library. Holding her heavy school bag tightly, she turned her head, searching for her study partner. A smile drifted over her face as she spotted Regulus Black, sitting at a table directly under one of the large windows. Quickly she scurried over to him.

"Hello," Hermione greeted.

Regulus looked up from his book. A shy smile played around his lips as he scanned Hermione.

"Hey," he said.

"I'm not late, am I?" the Gryffindor inquired, flustered.

"No, no," Regulus assured. "I was here early."

"Oh, okay." Hermione sat down beside him at the library table. "Did you already start?"

Regulus looked a bit nervous at her close proximity, but simply shook his head. "No, I was working on the Herbology essay. We can start Ancient Runes now, though."

"Perfect."

Regulus reached for his runes textbook and flipped it open. "I thought we could start with Bureus' aphorism."

Hermione nodded and pulled a roll of parchment from her bag. Her gaze was caught by a huge old tome Regulus had stashed away in his pile of school textbooks.

"What's that?"

"Hm?" Regulus looked up from the aphorism. "Oh, that. I actually asked Professor Wenlock for additional coursework. She gave me that book."

He pulled the old tome from the pile and handed it to Hermione.

"Oh." She stared down at the beautiful book, feeling a bit left out.

Regulus seemed to notice her awkwardness and smiled. "If you want, we can work on it together."

Instantly, Hermione perked up. Still, she timidly pointed out, "I don't know… I don't think Professor Wenlock would approve. I mean I only recently joined her class. I'm probably not that good anyway…"

"Nonsense," Regulus assured. "I'm sure she'll be fine with it. From what I've heard you're already top of your class anyway."

Hermione blushed under his praise. Then she carefully opened the old tome, instantly engrossed in the text. They quickly started their translations and Hermione found it was quite refreshing to work with Regulus. He certainly knew his runes and together they managed to translate a rather complicated passage in the old tome. They had already worked for more than two hours as they both agreed to take a short break. Hermione tiredly leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, and watched Regulus pull a copy of the Daily Prophet from his satchel. Again the picture of Dolores Umbridge greeted Hermione from the front page. She shuddered uncomfortably. The photo beside Umbridge's showed Sirius Black. Dressed in what could only be prison clothing, he sneered into the camera.  _Hm… Sirius_ _Black_. Hermione had only noticed that now.

"Say…" she inquired curiously, peering at Regulus. "Sirius Black… is he in any way related to you. I mean, you have the same surname."

Instantly Regulus tensed up, avoided eye contact and started to nervously fiddle with his quill. Seeing that, Hermione regretted ever asking the question.

"He's… well…" the Slytherin mumbled awkwardly. "Sirius is my… my brother."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Your brother?"

Regulus nodded, still not looking at Hermione. Although the situation seemed to be quite embarrassing for him, he still continued,

"He's older than me. Sirius was in his fifth year at Hogwarts as I was born, you see. I actually don't remember much of him. Anyway, there was a huge argument between him and my parents. He moved out after that. He was still a student back then. I think in his last year."

"Oh," Hermione mused, pensively staring at the photo. "That's sad."

At that Regulus' head snapped up and he stared at her, surprise in his wide eyes.

"Sad?" he asked confusedly as if that was the last reply he had expected.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. He's your brother and you never really got to know him."

Regulus laughed nervously and ran a hand through his black hair. "You know that's the first time someone said that to me?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Really?"

"Most people think it's a disgrace, actually, to be related to a criminal like him." Regulus replied tensely. "My parents never talk about him. It's like he never existed."

"Are you ashamed he's your brother?" Hermione questioned tentatively.

"I don't know," Regulus sighed. "Sometimes, I guess. I grew up with people telling me how much of a disappointment Sirius is. Sometimes they also looked at  _me_  funny, because I'm the brother of a Mudblood-lover. They probably thought I'd be just like my brother."

Something constricted around Hermione's chest as she heard that. The emotion weighed heavily on her, but she couldn't – or maybe didn't want to – identify it. Somehow her mouth opened and she noted quietly,

"But you're not… not like him?"

Regulus stared at her for a moment. Then he said slowly, suspicion burning harshly at the edges of his tone,

"No, I am not."

"I see," Hermione whispered, negligently ignoring the dangerous turn of this conversation. "You still want to meet him?"

Now the Slytherin's eyes narrowed at her, a shadow of anger in them. Then Regulus snapped indignantly, "Why would I want to meet someone like him?"

Hermione peered at him and stuttered meekly, "I'd… I think, I'd want to meet my brother. If I had one. Just to… I don't know… talk with him."

Regulus didn't reply. Instead he reached for his parchment roll and continued to work on his translation, completely ignoring the Gryffindor girl. Hermione blinked owlishly. She hadn't wanted to insult him. Quickly, she lowered her gaze to her own parchment. How could she have suggested something like that? she chastised herself. Now Regulus was angry with her. Hermione's body was tense as she sat on her chair. The silence was painfully pressing down on her as she tried to work. After a while of silently scribbling down runes, Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry," she whispered timidly.

Regulus' quill stopped dancing over his parchment. He didn't immediately reply, but after a while he said softly,

"You don't have to be sorry, Hermione. I'm… It's kind of a sore topic for me. Sirius is just-"

He stopped himself and awkwardly cleared his throat. His gaze left his work and he looked at Hermione. Even a small smile tugged timidly at the corners of his mouth.

"It's not your fault," Regulus assured kindly.

Hermione nodded, cautiously returning the smile. "Still, I'm sorry I brought it up. It was not my place." Bashfully, she gestured at the runes book. "Shall we continue the translation?"

Regulus sent her a smile, obviously grateful for the change of topic. "Yes, please, let's do that. I'm actually stuck right here…"

He pointed to one sentence in the book and Hermione leaned a bit closer to read it.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was Thursday the same week as Hermione walked towards the DADA classroom. She was running late. Unfortunately, the deep cut Umbridge's curse had left behind in her side just a few days prior was acting up again. It had been healing nicely these past few days, until that stray Dissendium had hit her during Charms today. Dean had immediately apologized for it. Still, the impact had disturbed Hermione's cut and it hurt again. It wasn't too bad, though. She certainly wasn't going to miss out on DADA.

Hermione was late as she finally slipped into the duelling hall. Everybody else was already there and Lupin stood in front of his class, explaining the wand movements of the Attonitum Curse. His bright yellow eyes fell on her as Hermione stepped into the room. She blushed slightly under his scrutiny, embarrassed to be late. The werewolf grinned at her.

"Well, if it isn't Rookwood," Lupin commented dryly in his raspy voice. "Take your time, take your time."

Hermione ducked her head. "I'm sorry for being late, Captain Lupin."

Lupin merely shrugged, yellow eyes glinting mischievously. "You only missed the boring part. Can't blame you for that."

He threw her a smile, baring his sharp teeth, before he simply continued his lesson. Hermione released a breath of air and stood quietly, trying to follow Lupin's instructions. After a few minutes, he concluded his explanations and encouraged his students to try the curse for themselves. Hermione was relieved that she remembered reading about the Attonitum Curse in an old book in the Malfoy library. Otherwise, she would have had problems now, having missed all of Lupin's explanation.

The other students started to stroll over to their trainings dummies, chatting with each other and pulling their wands. Hermione hastily followed, not wanting to again lag behind. Looking for a free dummy, Hermione jumped slightly as a hand sneakily found its way underneath her school robe, coming to rest on her waist. Her head snapped up just to be met by a smirk on Tom's handsome face. Hermione relaxed the tightened grip around her wand.

"Hermione," Riddle greeted in his velvety voice, pulling her closer.

"Hello," Hermione replied politely.

The Slytherin scanned her in contemplation, his hard gaze wandering over her form. Finally he asked, his voice lacking all emotion,

"How are you? You're limping again."

Hermione could feel his fingers, which still lay on her waist, softly skimming over the spot where Umbridge's cutting curse had injured her. Quickly, she pasted a reassuring smile on her face.

"I'm fine."

Tom's icy blue eyes lingered on her side. They were sealed and gave nothing away. Then abruptly, his hand left her and Tom took a step away from her. There now was a genial smile on his face, but Hermione got the distinct impression that it was even more of a mask than the emotionless look from before had been.

"That is good to hear," Tom replied blandly.

The small smile on his face didn't waver, even his eyes glinted with it. Still, it was fake and Hermione wondered what he tried to veil. She pondered whether it would be safe to ask Tom, as Ginny stepped over to them. The smile instantly dropped from Riddle's face.

"Oh, Riddle," Ginny chirped, faux enthusiasm painfully obvious in her voice. "Always such a  _pleasure_  to meet our Head Boy."

There was not a hint of emotion on Tom's stoic face as his blue eyes wandered over Ginny.

"Indeed," he replied composedly. "A good day to you, Miss Weasley."

Ginny's fake smile didn't waver. Instead she replied in an overtly polite voice, "How about you stay on the Gryffindor side of the classroom today? I'm  _sure_  that would set everyone at ease. If anything, we can trust our esteemed Head Boy to ensure that no-one gets  _accidentally_  hit by a stray curse."

There was sarcasm in Ginny's voice and a good bit of innuendo, still Tom acted as if he hadn't heard it.

"I think you will do just fine without my assistance," he reassured in a decidedly kind tone.

Ginny abandoned her faux friendliness and simply sneered at Tom. The Slytherin ignored her and turned to Hermione. Once again his gaze skimmed over her injured side. His eyes snapped to Hermione's and Tom ordered in a voice that brooked no room for argument,

"You are not duelling today, Hermione."

Hermione was shortly taken aback by the harsh command, but then slightly inclined her head.

"Yes, Tom."

His deep blue eyes narrowed at her, but then he simply turned and, without another word, strode over to Malfoy and Dolohov. Ginny shook her head and sneered,

"Well…" Her eyes followed Riddle to the other side of the classroom. "That was a tad weird. Who does he think he is? The king of the castle?"

"Erm…" Hermione ran her shaky fingers through her hair. "He's just… a bit  _overprotective_ , because I kinda strained my… er… back?"

Ginny's gaze wandered to Hermione. She stared for a moment, before a thin eyebrow arched up to her hairline.

"Strained your back, huh?" Ginny asked, sardonic tint to her voice. Then she clapped a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You know what? I really don't want to know. Really don't."

Ginny pulled her wand and sent an Attonitum curse at her trainings dummy. The curse crashed right into the dummy's face and detonated with a violent explosion. The dummy wobbled precariously, but kept its balance, probably protected by some kind of shield.

"I like you, Hermione," Ginny informed, attention completely on her dummy. "So, I won't comment on the choice of your boyfriend. It's probably just a phase and I'm going to pretend Riddle's not there at all."

Hermione drew her own wand and proceeded to work with the curse. Ginny was right, Hermione didn't want to discuss Riddle either. Instead, she waved her wand.

_Attona!_

The magic tingled all over Hermione's body before it washed through her wand and formed into the curse. With force it rushed through the air before it crashed into the chest of Hermione's dummy. The dummy was hurled away, almost falling over, but then bounced back.

"Neat," Ginny said casually.

Hermione smiled shyly at the red-head. The girl grinned right back.

"Watch this," she said mischievously.

Ginny's wand danced through the air. The yellow light of the Attonitum Curse flew through the air. This time, Ginny's curse only slightly grazed the dummy's arm. The force behind that light impact sent the wooden figure spinning. It finally tipped over and crashed into Parvati's dummy, sending them both to the floor. Parvati glared at Ginny, who could barely hide her laughter.

"Weasley," Parvati shrieked angrily. "Stay away from my dummy."

"Sorry," Ginny said, not sounding apologetic in the least. "Just trying to be effective and all that."

Parvati was not at all amused by the turn of events. With an angry slash of her wand, she sent a levitation spell at both dummies and returned them to their proper position. Then she stuck her nose in the air and tried her best to ignore Ginny. The red-head chuckled, unimpressed.

"See," she whispered gleefully to Hermione. "You don't really need much power. All you need is good aim."

Ginny's grin was quite infectious and Hermione giggled softly. Both girls were only silenced as Lupin gazed at them, his yellow eyes glowing sternly. They quieted down and Hermione returned to her own dummy.

"Oh, I see," Ginny whispered wryly, still grinning. "You're his favourite now, eh?"

It was half an hour later, that Lupin ordered them to stop the training. Hermione was grateful for that as her injured side had started to throb painfully. Lupin pulled his wand from the holster at his belt. With sharp and precise movements he brandished it. Every wooden dummy in the huge trainings hall obeyed him. They rushed to one side of the hall and stored themselves away in neat rows. Meanwhile Lupin pounced on the duelling platform. His yellow eyes glowed in a feral light as they wandered over the students. A grin stretched his lips, baring his teeth.

"Now, my  _dear_  students," Lupin growled, ragged humour in his words. "Who wants to duel this time?"

Hermione didn't move, remembering Tom's order. This time, it was Ginny who raised her hand. Hermione watched as her friend hopped on the platform, grinning widely, and proclaimed she wanted to duel Marcus Flint. Hermione raised her eyebrows. She knew Flint from her History class. He was a rather tall, brawny seventh year and also the Slytherin Quidditch captain. The evil grin on Ginny's face told Hermione that this was probably some kind of sports related revenge. And she was right. The duel turned out to be very violent, not to Hermione's surprise. Both opponents were anxious to win. In the end, it was an incredibly strong Bat Bogey Hex from Ginny that hurled Flint off the platform, thus making Ginny the winner. Eagerly, Hermione clapped along with the other Gryffindors, smiling at Ginny's victory. Flint just walked back to the Slytherins, angry scowl in place.

"That was a good duel," Hermione said as she and Ginny left the classroom.

"Thanks." Ginny grinned, all teeth. "I've been waiting for the opportunity to show that jerk how it's done." She shuddered with disgust. "Bah, Slytherins. Can't stand those snake-people."

Hermione chose to say nothing, but Ginny didn't seem to mind. Obviously in a good mood, she simply continued to chatter,

"So, Hermione. You've been to Hogwarts for some time now. And I still know next to nothing to you."

That made Hermione tense and throw a cautious look at the red-head. Ginny was oblivious to Hermione's upcoming anxiety.

"Where do you actually live?"

"Er…" Hermione stuttered, desperately trying to remember every detail of her cover story. "I… you know… live in London. My father had an apartment there. He's… before he died, that is… I lived there, too. So, I guess I'll just… yeah… stay there?"

She glanced at Ginny, seeing if she bought the story. The red-head looked at Hermione, a hint of sadness in her pretty eyes.

"You are so brave, Hermione," Ginny finally said. "Living all on your own now. Must be difficult."

"Erm… It's alright. Not that bad," Hermione tried to play it down.

Ginny nodded. "Still. You know, I always say I can't wait to move out. What with seven brothers and all that. But I'm actually a bit scared of it, too."

Hermione smiled at her. "You've still got time."

"Yeah." The red-head laughed. "I'm only in sixth year. I still have to whole seventh year to come to terms with it, eh?"

The girls climbed the staircase in direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"Anyway. Can I come and visit you in London some time?"

Hermione could barely suppress a gasp and disguised it as a very nervous sounding laugh.

"Um… yes, sure. You can visit me."

She gritted her teeth as she looked at the happy smile on Ginny's face. Too bad that there was no apartment in London for Hermione. Hopefully, Ginny would forget about this until the summer break.

"Neat."

Ginny sauntered over to the portrait of the Fat Lady and whispered the password. Entering the Gryffindor common room, she said casually,

"So, what I wanted to ask. Can you show me how you do that Attonitum Curse? Yours is incredibly powerful. What's your trick?"

She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Hermione. Feeling quite self-conscious, Hermione mumbled,

"It's not  _that_  great."

"Nah." Ginny shook her head. "It really is. Can you teach me?"

Hermione smiled weakly. A real witch asking  _her_  for help? She wasn't sure whether Ginny was making fun of her, but the girl seemed to be honest. Did she really think Hermione's spell work was good? The expression on Ginny's face was open, though. No hint of deceit visible. The smile on Hermione's face widened.

"If you want to," she whispered timidly. "I'm not sure I can help you, but I would try."

"Aw, you're awesome," Ginny exclaimed as she threw herself on one of the couches. "Let's do that tomorrow. Not today. Today I need to bath in the after-glow of how Flint got his ass handed to him. By me."

She threw Hermione a mischievous grin as she reached for a box of chocolate frogs on the side table.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione remembered the day she had told Tom how scary his friends were. It seemed that Bellatrix Black was out to prove her right. So, it was rather unfortunate that Hermione, searching for Tom, tried to enter the Slytherin common room and was greeted by none other than Bellatrix in the otherwise deserted room.

Crazy smile in place, the Slytherin greeted Hermione, "Oh, what is this? A little lion came down to the snake pit. How nice of you."

Hermione felt quite alarmed by the mad glint in the other girl's eyes. She stumbled a step back from Bellatrix, her back colliding with the entrance door.

"I- I was just searching for Tom," Hermione mumbled nervously.

She still hadn't forgotten how Bellatrix cursed her with the Cruciatus Curse all those weeks ago. Back then, Hermione had still been 'Penny' and quite helpless.

"I see, I see," Bellatrix replied, smirking ominously. "You're searching for  _Tom_ , do you? Well,  _Tom_  is not here."

"O- okay," whispered Hermione. "I'll leave then."

Before she could turn, Bellatrix grabbed her shoulder.

"No, stay a moment," the Slytherin said, smile twisting her lips. "I think we should have a girls' talk. Yes, yes. That would be lovely, don't you think?"

"I… I don't know." Hermione squirmed away from Bellatrix touch. "I'm in a hurry."

"Of course," Bellatrix scoffed disdainfully, abruptly abandoning the fake smile. "You've got to run back to Tom. What was I thinking? You obviously need to discharge your conjugal duty for the day. Go on, then. See to his  _needs_." Bellatrix snickered meanly. "After all, you think you're his precious girlfriend, do you not?"

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line as she was hit by Bellatrix' scorn. This was not Malfoy manor, she angrily reminded herself. She was not 'Penny' anymore and Bellatrix held no sway over her. Hermione's temper flared as she remembered the cruelty with which Bellatrix had always treated her. Narrowing her eyes at the witch, Hermione snapped heatedly,

"You seem to be quite obsessed with Tom. Jealous?"

Instantly, Bellatrix' magic aggressively pressed down on Hermione. She stumbled a step away from the furious witch, ready to pull her wand.

"Jealous? Of what? You?" Bellatrix hissed darkly. "Do you really think I want to be  _his_  girlfriend?

She stared at Hermione as if she thought the other girl was stupid. Baring her teeth, Bellatrix stepped closer to Hermione. There was a crazed glint in her eyes as she whispered, dangerous tint in her voice,

"I do not want to be Riddle's  _girlfriend_. How ridiculous."

Hermione was confused by this denial. She furrowed her brow and remarked firmly, "It's painfully obvious that you like him, Bellatrix."

"Like him?!" the Slytherin exclaimed before she broke down in cackles.

Hermione took a nervous step away from the girl, her previous anger deflated. Bellatrix' giggles abruptly stopped and she fixed Hermione with a hard glare.

"I don't  _like_  Riddle," Bellatrix hissed, distorted softness in her otherwise sharp voice. "I don't want to be his little girlfriend." She eyed Hermione disparagingly. "That's your job. Keep him entertained. Distract him a bit. Warm his bed…"

The witch eyed Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes. Her tongue licked over her full lips. A strange look crossed Bellatrix. It twisted her pretty face into an insane mask.

"Riddle and me," Bellatrix all but purred in content. "What we have is something deeper. We are the same." Another sinister laugh tore from her lips. "I don't care what he does with his  _girls_  …with you. He can keep fucking you. It doesn't change anything."

She raised her hand and twirled a lock of Hermione's hair around her long-nailed finger. A dark smirk curved her lips as she suggested huskily,

"Or maybe  _I_  can sleep with you."

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at the other witch. Bellatrix snickered deeply and skimmed her fingernails slowly over Hermione's cheek.

"What a fun idea," Bellatrix mused merrily. "You look hot."

The witch bent a bit forward coming very close to Hermione, who was somehow paralyzed.

"Hm," murmured Bellatrix contently. "You even smell good."

She scanned Hermione with dark amusement in her eyes. Her fingers had by now left Hermione's cheek and stroked gently over her shoulder.

"I wonder," Bellatrix hummed. ", how much Riddle likes his plaything. Maybe he is willing to share…"

Abruptly Bellatrix stepped away from Hermione. She ran a hand through her black hair, mussing it up, grabbing fistfuls.

"Him and me," the witch sang insanely. "Me and him. It does not change. Do you understand that?" Her eyes narrowed angrily and she suddenly screamed enraged, "DO YOU?!"

Hermione flinched, finally pulled out of her stupor. Her hand wandered to her robe pocket and she was immensely reassured as she felt her wand through the cloth.

"I think it's better I go," Hermione said, forcing calm into her voice.

Bellatrix merely sneered at her. She didn't lower herself to give an answer. Her interest completely left Hermione and she lazily threw herself down on a nearby armchair. Hermione hastily exited the Slytherin common room and quickly left the dungeons behind. It didn't take her long to reach the Heads' common room. She was relieved to find Tom sitting on the sofa. Hermione walked over to him and plopped down beside him. He didn't acknowledge her but kept reading his book. There was a stretch of silence, interrupted only by the spitting from the fire. Hermione stared into the flames and watched them consuming a log of wood. After a while she asked Riddle colourlessly,

"Do you know that Bellatrix is insane?"

Tom arched his eyebrows and now turned towards her. His face was a blank mask as he studied Hermione. Then he supplied calmly,

"Yes."

Hermione held his steady gaze for a second. Then shrugged and said, "Okay then."

With that she reached for her school bag and pulled out her Arithmancy textbook. Not saying any more, she started on her essay.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**"Therefore, though the best is bad,**

**Stand and do the best, my lad;**

**Stand and fight and see your slain,**

**And take the bullet in your brain."**

**\- Alfred Edward Housman**

**(*1859 † 1935)**


	19. You Smile at Me

Hermione idly rolled her quill in the palm of her hand, her other propping up her head in a lazy slouch. Her gaze wandered from the quill to the clock. Five thirty already. Tom had told her to meet him in the library at five. He still hadn’t showed. His tardiness wasn’t really that bad – after all Hermione got to wait in a library – but still, she wanted to start with the potions essay. Tom had said they would write it together. Hermione sighed softly. If she had to wait anyway, she could get started with the essay for History of Magic. She furrowed her brow in distaste as she glared down at her parchment. Once again Carrow wanted them to write about Grindelwald’s so-called good deeds.

It was quite some time later that Hermione scribbled down the finishing sentence, feeling a bit dirty. Now in a considerably worse mood, she again checked the clock. Almost seven. Still no sign of Tom and to be honest she felt slightly miffed by that. Maybe her absent master had ordered her to wait for him in the library, but Hermione didn’t feel much like waiting anymore. There was a little ball of annoyance growing in the pit of her stomach. Why should she miss dinner because Tom was obviously unable to read the clock? With a final huff, Hermione stood from the table. She was done waiting. Order or not, master or not, she wasn’t going to wait any longer for Tom to deign her with his presence. Stomping her feet angrily, she left the library. Maybe she could still grab something to eat.

As fate wanted it, Hermione’s temper had no chance to calm down. On her way to the Great Hall, she ran into Tom. Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene in front of her. As if he had no worry in the world, Tom stood there and lazily chatted with Bellatrix Black. An adoring and rather disturbing look lit up Bellatrix’ face while she hung on Riddle’s lips. Gritting her teeth in anger, Hermione stepped closer. The pair of them, absorbed in their conversation, didn’t notice her presence. Impatiently, Hermione cleared her throat. Finally, the two Slytherins looked at her. Hermione couldn’t help but glare at Riddle, hot anger mounting up in her as he simply gazed back at her, cocking a questioning eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?!”

The brusqueness in Hermione’s voice painted a sharp frown on Tom’s forehead. His confusion only managed to raise Hermione’s temper further.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he finally voiced, not at all impressed by Hermione’s rudeness.

“You know we had planned to work on the potions essay, yes?” she asked angrily.

A disinterested look slid over Tom’s face and he replied loftily, “I had to take care of something.”

Hermione felt her churned-up magic give an angry budge and she sniped, “Well, isn’t that convenient for you?”

Riddle cocked an unimpressed eyebrow and said dryly, “In fact it wasn’t.”

Hermione’s frustration had mounted up enough and she openly scowled at him. In response, Tom asked, hints of anger now wrapped around his words, “What’s your problem?”

Hermione ignored the dark look on his face and replied curtly, “For your information, I’ve been waiting for you in the library the whole day. Couldn’t you have told me that you wouldn’t drop by?”

The accusation in Hermione’s words was as obvious as was the irritation smouldering in Tom’s blue eyes. The Slytherin took a step towards her and now towered over her. As he spoke, his quite voice was controlled and calm but laced with vitriol,

“Do you really think I would waste my time running around the place just to cater to your abandonment issues?”

Disregarding the lethal tone in Tom’s voice, Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and snapped, “You know what? I don’t have time for this anymore. Because of _someone_ I am late for dinner.”

With that she turned on her heels and stomped down the corridor. She could hear Bellatrix snicker in sick amusement, “Uh-oh. What do I see, Riddle? Trouble in paradise?”

Hermione managed to march down the entire corridor and the next until she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. None too gently, she was twirled around and greeted by angry blue eyes.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Tom demanded to know.

Hermione shrugged, throwing him a defiant look. She was still too angry to back out of this confrontation. Seeing her stubborn behaviour, Riddle smirked disparagingly.

“What now, Hermione?” he asked, scorn hidden behind a wall of fake concern. “Upset that your boyfriend stood you up?”

Hermione bristled, her hands balling into tight fists. Riddle’s nasty smirk only widened as he saw her reaction. Mean tint in his voice, he sneered, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m certainly not your little boyfriend. That would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”

A derisive smirk stretched Riddle’s lips as he sneered down at her and Hermione snapped caustically, “If it’s so ridiculous, why did you make that lie up in the first place?”

The condescending smirk died on his face as he was hit by her continued defiance. Hermione knew she should back down now but strangely enough Tom’s upcoming anger only managed to infuriate her even further.

“Do you want me to tell them the truth about you?” Tom hissed, menace in his silky voice.

His blue eyes danced with his ire as he glared at her. Despite his veiled threat, Hermione didn’t feel like cowering away from his cold presence.

“You can’t do that,” she informed cuttingly. “It would compromise you as well. In fact, it’s probably better we keep our distance from now on.”

Hermione felt her Dark Mark tingling forebodingly. She gritted her teeth and stubbornly didn’t avoid his penetrating eyes.

“What do you mean?” Riddle asked, voice hard as stone.

Hermione crossed her arms defensively before her chest. Her mark now burned painfully. Ignoring the pain, Hermione suggested flippantly, “We should break up.” The painful pull at her mark intensified, but she still didn’t react. “If _you_ break up with _me_ , your precious male ego wouldn’t even get hurt.”

If Hermione’s mark had hurt before, it now felt as if a knife stabbed her left forearm. She couldn’t completely mask that painful gasp from escaping her. Tom reached for her, grabbed her arm and gruffly pulled her over to him.

“You have no say in this matter, Hermione,” he whispered venomously.

Hermione’s stomach curled up in a tight knot as she looked into Tom’s steely eyes. She knew she had already gone too far, but it was too late to stop now. So she opened her mouth and replied scathingly, “We should end this fake relationship as soon as possible.” Hermione forced a nasty smile on her face. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you have quite the dubious reputation in this castle. Some even call it dissolute. If you keep a fling… excuse me, _girlfriend,_ ” she scoffed and put air quotes around the last word. “, for longer than two weeks, people will get suspicious.”

As soon as she stopped speaking, Hermione was hit by a wave of Tom’s dark magic. He still held her by the arm, his cold eyes screaming murder.

“Watch your mouth,” Tom ordered in an ice cold voice. “Don’t forget what you are and who I am.”

A red danger signal blared in Hermione’s mind, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Her magic already boiled too close to the surface. They were probably both teetering on a dangerous cliff, magic crackling agitatedly around them.

Before either of them could take action, a group of Hufflepuffs entered the same corridor. Their oblivious chatter happily echoed from the walls and dispelled the suffocating silence. Hermione automatically pulled her magic back from Tom. Simultaneously, Tom released her arm, the murderous expression slipping from his face to be replaced by an eerily fake smile. Hermione glared at the act he pulled so fast.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” she hissed at him under her breath.

The threatening glint in Tom’s eyes darkened. Some of the Hufflepuffs smiled at their Head Boy in greeting as they passed. Tom returned the greeting with a curt nod. Hermione ignored the other students and whispered acridly,

“If you don’t mind,” Her tone left no doubt that she did not care either way. “, I’ll be on my way. I’ve wasted enough time today already.”

With that Hermione turned on her heels and left Tom standing in the corridor the second time today. Her Dark Mark smarted horribly, but she didn’t care. Whatever had made her mouth sprout that insolence, it hadn’t burned out yet. The white hot anger still raged through Hermione. She didn’t even know where the rage came from. Waiting a few hours for her master to show up had by far not been the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

Hermione stalked through the Entrance Hall. Her appetite had been thoroughly spoiled. So she forewent dinner, left the castle and stepped out into the brisk night air. The sun had long since set, leaving the castle and the grounds cast in darkness. Hermione’s anger burned hot in contrast to the coldness outside. Her hands were curled into tight fists as she irately kicked at a pepple.

“Uh-oh,” a deep voice being her chuckled. “What got your knickers in a twist?”

Gritting her teeth in anger, Hermione whirled around, ready to send a hex at the brash person. She only just managed to stop a Diffindo from detaching from her wand as she recognized Lupin. Wide grin in place, the werewolf lounged lazily on the stone stairs to the front door. His yellow eyes scanned Hermione with interest.

“Now what’s gotten into my favourite student?” Lupin inquired teasingly.

Casually, he flicked the ash from his cigarette before he took another drag. All the while he leered at her wolfishly. Hermione blushed and, rather pointlessly, hid her wand behind her back.

“Erm… nothing…” she mumbled. “It’s really… just nothing.”

Lupin laughed throatily at her pathetic display. He patted the spot on the stairs right beside him and said in his raspy voice, “Sit down, Rookwood. You’re making me all nervous here.”

Hermione creased her forehead at the invitation and she threw suspicious glances at Lupin and the offered seat. Her hesitation made the werewolf once again bark out a laugh.

“Come on,” Lupin assured, mischievous glint in his eyes. “I don’t bite.”

This time, Hermione couldn’t hold back a small laugh. She put her wand back into her robe pocket and plopped down beside the professor. For a moment they sat in silence. Lupin casually leaned against the stairs and enjoyed his smoke while he looked up at the night sky. Hermione sat beside him and stared into the darkness of Hogwarts’ grounds. The silence was kind of relaxing and soon her violent temper decided to abate. It was a clear night and the moon’s silvery light merrily played with the shadows. Hermione breathed in deeply, the cold air clearing her mind further.

“Are you going to miss DADA next week?”

Lupin peered at her through the corners of his eyes. “Why would that be?”

She gestured at the silvery disk in the night sky. “It’ll be a full moon.”

Lupin nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. “You sure know your lunar calendar.”

“It’s for Herbology, actually,” Hermione replied. “We need a waning moon to collect the henbane. We’ll have that at the end of next week.”

“I see…” Lupin hummed pensively. “To answer your question, though, yes, I won’t be here next week.” A grin crept on his face and sarcasm crept into his voice, “The horror. I’ll surely miss teaching so very much."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him, making him laugh out loud. Then she pursed her lips at the werewolf and asked curiously, “When do you have to take the Wolfsbane potion?”

Lupin scratched his head. He didn’t seem to be offended by her inquisitive nature and replied, “The same day of the full moon. Usually in the afternoon. Long before the sun sets and the moon rises.”

Hermione nodded excitedly. Her anger about Tom completely dropped into the background and she blurted, “But you’re still going to turn, are you?”

“Of course. Nothing is strong enough to stop a werewolf from turning.” Lupin bragged.

“How does it feel?”

The werewolf smirked, baring his teeth. “What? To turn or being a wolf?”

“Both.” Barely, Hermione could reign in her excitement.

“Hm.” He tapped his index finger against his lips. “To turn… how to describe that? I guess it’s like that moment after your tenth shot of tequila. You’re dizzy as hell and know you should probably stop. But then you just think, ‘Fuck it!’, and continue.”

“I… see,” said Hermione and couldn’t help herself to throw Lupin a reproachful look.

He merely grinned at her unapologetically. “What? No fan of tequila?”

“I actually never tried it,” said Hermione dryly.

“Merlin, that’s horrible,” Lupin lamented in mock outrage. “Don’t tell me no-one smuggles alcohol into the dorms anymore. Oh, Hogwarts, what hast thou become?”

Hermione giggled at his antics. The werewolf merely ginned at her widely and took another drag from his cigarette.

“So, turning into a wolf, that’s like getting drunk?” Hermione summarized sceptically.

Lupin laughed, his yellow eyes shining with his amusement. “Oh, no. No. It’s far better.”

Hermione decided to not prod further. “Okay. Then how does it feel, you know, to _be_ a wolf? I’ve read about Animagi. When they turn into their animal form, it’s supposed to be like slipping into another body. Everything else stays the same, they just have another body.”

Lupin glanced at her roguishly. “What’s that? You trying to become an Animagus, Rookwood?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “No. I was just curious and read up on it. There’s also a lot of paperwork involved. The Ministry registers all Animagi and which form they take.”

The grin on Lupin’s face suddenly gained a rather fierce streak. There was a strange, almost sarcastic, tint in his voice. “Oh, yes. The Ministry has to take record of everything, doesn’t it?”

“Er… yes, I assume it does,” Hermione replied, a little confused by the werewolf’s behaviour.

Lupin simply snickered in face of Hermione’s befuddlement. “You didn’t want to talk about Animagi, though, did you?”

She shook her head, drawing her thoughts back to her inquiries.  “No. The… er… transformation? How does it feel being a wolf?”

Lupin leaned back on his hands and stared up at the waxing moon. The mischievous grin melted from his face as his eyes took in the silvery light.

“If we want to stay with my tequila metaphor,” he finally said, now a serious streak entering his voice. “Being a wolf, that’s like having drunk so much, you wake up the next morning and can’t remember anything of the night before. Could have been fun, best night of your life. _Or_ could have been you huddled over the toilet throwing up all night… You just don’t remember.”

Lupin flicked the cigarette stub away, not caring where it landed. There was no easy smile on his face this time as he added heavily,

“You must know, during the full moon when we turn into wolves, we are at our weakest.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “But I thought… That doesn’t make sense. People are afraid of werewolves… when they are _turned_. Without the Wolfsbane, they could rip a wizard apart without any effort.”

Lupin laughed roughly, baring his teeth in a wild grin. “I don’t need to turn into a wolf to be able to do that.”

Hermione glanced at him, not doubting his words. Still, she was confused. It must have shown on her face, because Lupin clapped her shoulder.

“Being a werewolf has many advantages,” he stated, a hint of pride in his raspy voice. “We are physically stronger than humans and faster. Our magical abilities expand as soon as we receive the bite. But,” His yellow eyes flicked back to the moon high up in the sky. “, when we turn during the full moon, we lose our strongest weapon."

“What is that?” Hermione asked cautiously.

He grinned at her and stubbed his index finger against her forehead. “Our mind.”

Lupin chuckled at her surprised face and explained, “When werewolves turn, they become beasts. Very powerful, maybe, but there are no thoughts left. No ability to plan. That beast is only ruled by its desires and base instincts.”

Hermione nodded slowly, considering the man. Then she inquired timidly, “The Wolfsbane Potion… does it stop this?”

“Not quite.” Lupin peered at her, amusement glinting in his sharp eyes. “Tequila metaphor aside, I would say my thoughts get clearer, sharper when I turn. But at the same time they simplify, focus on only a few things. At the end of the process, there’s barely a ‘me’ left, but only the wolf.” His brow furrowed slightly as he thought. “A beast does not have need for much, but the few things it _does_ want, it pursues with ferocity.”

Hermione nodded, fascinated by the picture he drew.

“With the Wolfsbane,” the werewolf continued. “, the beast is still the same, ruled by nothing but instincts. But the potion ensures that a tiny portion of ‘me’ remains conscious.”

Lupin scanned her, his yellow eyes wandering over her frame searchingly. He furrowed his brow as if contemplating something. Hermione shifted a bit, self-conscious under the heavy gaze. After a moment of silence, Lupin grabbed another cigarette. Taking a deep drag, he told her seriously,

“You know, I have a bit Wolfsbane to spare.”

Now it was Hermione how furrowed her brow in confusion. “What?”

A sleazy smirk curled the werewolf’s lips. “Just a few minutes ago, you stormed out here and looked like you wanted to rip someone’s head off.” His smirk widened and he teased, “I’m no expert, but maybe the Wolfsbane’ll calm you down nicely.”

Hermione harrumphed and threw Lupin a dark glare as he broke down in laughter.

†

Hermione avoided Tom the next day. She wasn’t sure why she did it. Maybe out of fear. It certainly wasn’t her place to talk with her master in such a way. Then again, fear or not, a main reason for her ignoring him, was caused by Hermione still feeling cross with him. And wasn’t that the strangest thing?

_Angry with my master?_

It was a new occurrence for Hermione and its possibilities made her feel strangely giddy. In all her life, she had despised her masters. She may have bowed to the Malfoys, but she had hated them. Never, though, had she been angry with them. At least not like this, with the opportunity to have an outlet for that anger. It had felt so good to rage at Tom.

Still, Hermione felt a bit anxious as she walked into the Heads’ common room after classes. Riddle already sat on the sofa, scribbling on some parchment. He looked up as she entered. For a moment his gaze rested heavily on her, but then Tom’s attention dropped back to his parchment. Feeling rather awkward, Hermione walked over to him and sat down beside him. For a moment, the silence in the room was almost palpable. After an eternity, Tom raised his head and peered at her. Hermione stiffened and couldn’t help to stupidly stare back at him.

“Did you already write the essay for Slughorn?” Tom asked, his voice composed.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She had expected something else from him. Then again, she was certainly not going to insist on talking about the incident. Gladly, Hermione followed his lead.

“I started it,” she replied, in a controlled tone. “Do you want to work on it together?”

Icy blue eyes flashed at her and Tom replied calmly, “That is acceptable.”

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

A few days later, Hermione had completely forgotten about her confrontation with Tom. It was a Saturday and she happily strolled down Hogsmeade’s high street. It was the first time that she could visit the village and Hogsmeade was bursting with students. Hermione fully enjoyed walking amongst all the witches and wizards as if she were one of them. Occasionally staring at a shop window, she meandered through the village. 

“Hey! Rookwood!”

Hermione stopped and turned around as she heard her fake name. Tom’s friends were walking towards her. She glimpsed Regulus, Dolohov and – her heart sank – Draco. It was Dolohov who had called her. Handsome smile in place, the tall Slytherin fell in step beside her, the other two following suit.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing here all by herself?” Dolohov asked, throwing Hermione a flirtatious look.

She blinked up at him, slightly put off balance by his behaviour. Then she cleared her throat and replied, “Er… I wanted to see Hogsmeade…?”

Dolohov’s face lit up with realisation. “Oh, of course. You haven’t been here before, have you?”

“No,” she replied absentmindedly, eyes wandering over a shop window.

Herbs and plants were piled in the display. ‘ _Dogweed and Deathcap’_ , Hermione read the shop’s sign. This could be useful when she had to restock her potions ingredients. Then again, Tom would probably insist she stole from the school’s stocks again.

“So, what do you say?” Dolohov’s deep voice seeped into her ear.

She looked up at the Slytherin. “Er… excuse me, what?”

Dolohov grinned down at her. “We could show you around?”

Hermione blinked at the three Slytherins. She didn’t mind Regulus and Dolohov so much, but as her eyes came to rest on Draco she felt slightly nauseous. Still, she dutifully nodded her head.

“Yes, that would be nice.”

It surprisingly really was. Dolohov and Regulus were good company and, as it turned out, Draco was at least able to _act_ civil.

“You have to try those,” Draco told her, gesturing at a pile of what looked like mice made of sugar.

“Yeah,” Dolohov commented, hungrily staring at the sweets. “They’re not bad.”

Hermione shrugged and put a handful Ice Mice into her already overflowing bag. You could say whatever you wanted about the Malfoys, but they weren’t known to have bad taste.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” Dolohov said, fondly scanning Honeyduke’s interior.

“That’s because you prefer to hang around Madame Puddifoot’s,” Draco said, scorn seeping through his voice.

“Gotta please the ladies,” replied Dolohov, sleazy smirk hanging from his lips.

“Come on, Hermione.” Regulus gestured at the bag of sweets in her hand. “It’s my treat.”

Then he tucked at her sleeve and pulled her towards the cashier. A few minutes later, all four left the shop, happily munching on the sweets from Hermione’s bag.

“Mmh, lasht time I ‘ad those,” Dolohov mumbled around a Jelly Slug. “, was fourtsh year.”

Draco crinkled his nose at the other in disgust and nibbled at his Cauldron Cake. Feeling another argument boiling up, Regulus butted in, “Why did you come here alone, Hermione. Didn’t your friends have time?”

Now there was a crinkle on Hermione’s nose that rivalled Draco’s. “No. Apparently, there’s a Quidditch trainings session.”

Dolohov grinned at her. “Don’t like Quidditch?”

Hermione cocked her eyebrows at him and lectured, “It’s dangerous. Why can no-one see that?”

“Well, I think that’s part of the fun,” Doholov drawled, still smirking.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. It was Draco’s voice that then inquired innocently, “Why didn’t Riddle accompany you?”

Strangely, the question made the grin drop from Dolohov’s face and Regulus shuffle nervously. Hermione ignored the strange mood and said, opting for the truth, “I asked him, but Tom didn’t want to come.”

“Oh, really?” Draco commented lightly. “And he was okay with you strolling around on your own?”

At the question, Dolohov threw him a sharp glare as if wanting to shut the other Slytherin up. Draco’s face remained to be perfectly schooled into a mask of innocent curiosity, but there was mirth maliciously dancing in his grey eyes as he met Dolohov’s angry glare.

Regulus cleared his throat and said, turned to Hermione, “How about we check out Tomes and Scrolls?”

Hermione nodded slowly, frowning at Dolohov and Draco. Still, she allowed Regulus to lead her towards the bookshop.

“Ignore them,” Regulus told her softly. “They could never stand each other.”

“Yeah…” said Hermione distractedly, glancing at the two Slytherins in question.

They still glowered darkly at each other. Hermione wondered what was up with that, but the unease brewing in Regulus’ eyes stopped her to ask him. The shop’s bell jingled merrily as they entered Tomes and Scrolls. The sight of the shelves full of books made Hermione forget all about the suspicious argument. She almost danced through the aisles, Regulus following smilingly.

“How didn’t you end up in Ravenclaw?” he commented amusedly.

“The same way you didn’t end up in Hufflepuff,” was her teasing retort.

“Touché.” Regulus smiled at her. “Don’t let my mother hear that. She’ll skin you alive… and me too.”

A blissful smile hovered around Hermione’s lips as she started to browse through the books. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to buy anything. Tom had given her a few Sickles, but they were for buying a new quill. Longingly, Hermione’s fingers trailed over the spines of the books as she wandered to the section with stationeries while Regulus was engrossed in an Arithmancy book. She just wanted reach for a new quill as she spotted a pile of leather-bound books. Hermione picked one up and flipped through the pages. They were all empty. It seemed to be designed to be a journal or diary. Pensively, she stared at the empty books. They were quite beautifully crafted and – she checked the price tag – not horribly expensive. If she didn’t insist on buying a new quill… after all, her old one may be a bit bent, but it still worked. Nodding to herself, Hermione put back the quill and reached for one of the empty books, choosing one with a black binding.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}} 

“Oh shit.” Ron hastily apologized, “Sorry, Hermione.”

Quickly he dived down and picked up the books Hermione had dropped as he ran into her.

“It’s fine,” she replied, smiling as he gave her the books. “What’s got you in such a rush?”

“I’m searching for Ginny,” Ron replied, scratching the back of his head. “You haven’t seen her, have you? Little beast stole my Quidditch helmet. I need it for training.”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and continued her way down the corridor, Ron following.

“Not since lunch.”

“Oh man,” Ron groaned. “Spinnet’s gonna kill me.”

They reached the Gryffindor common room and Ron rudely snapped the password at the Fat Lady. The portrait sprung forward, hitting Ron in the shoulder.

“Why’d she steal the helmet?” Hermione asked as they both sat down on a sofa.

“Because she’s a pest,” Ron replied, his head flopping against the back rest as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Watch what you’re saying,” another voice butted in.

As if popping out of thin air, Ginny had slid over to them. Grinning widely, she threw herself in one of the armchairs.

“Where’s my helmet?” Ron promptly asked.

His sister’s grin grew positively nasty. “You’ll never find it.”  
  
“Ginny!” Ron growled warningly.

“Of course I’ll give it back,” the red-head continued. “, as soon as you give me back the galleon I lent you.”

“Merlin have mercy!” Ron hissed through gritted teeth. “Do I look like I have money?”

Ginny shrugged indifferently. Then she refocused her attention from her infuriated brother to Hermione.

“What’s this?” she said with mock surprise. “You here? Aren’t you and Riddle usually joined at the hip?”

Hermione squirmed nervously. “Er…”

“Leave her alone,” Ron sighed, turned to Ginny. “Hermione doesn’t have to spend her whole time with that- … _Slytherin_.”

Ginny smiled at Hermione disarmingly. “Yeah. You need to spend more time with your friends.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. _Friends?_ Were they… friends? She stared at the two red-heads and a warm feeling filled her chest. Slowly a smile curled Hermione’s lips. Never had she thought a real witch or wizard would ever want to be friends with _her_.

“How’s it going with Riddle anyway?” Ginny asked.

Still pondering her _friends,_ Hermione replied, “Okay, I guess.”

“Well, that sure sounds romantic,” Ron sassed, sour look on his face.

Ginny regarded Hermione in contemplation. Then she mentioned innocently, “You know, I hear Katie broke up with McLaggen. Just if you wanna re-orient yourself… He’s a hottie.”

Both, Ron and Hermione, threw the red-head a dark glare. Ginny merely grinned and raised her hands in defeat. Before they could continue to discuss, the portrait hole opened and in stepped Dean, drenched from head to foot.

“What happened?” Ginny asked as her boyfriend sat down beside her.

“Fucking Neville.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Ginny frowned up at him. “What were you doing in a girls’ toilet?”

Dean peered at her, grinned and jumped into an explanation, “Here I was, walking down a corridor, when I spotted McGonagall. I flung myself into the next door I saw. What was I supposed to do? Flunked the test and didn’t fancy getting a lecture.”

“Neville’s toilet?” Ron asked, shaking his head at his friend.

“Damn right,” Dean groaned, wringing water from his shirt.

“Who’s Neville?” Hermione asked as she pulled her wand and sent a drying charm at Dean.

“Thanks,” Dean said. “Neville’s a ghost.”

“Remember? We told you about him?” Ginny reminded her. “Nagging Neville? Poor guy died two years ago.”

“Ah yes,” Hermione replied. “He was killed by that girl’s Erumpent. What was her name?”  
  
“Luna Lovegood,” Ron supplied.

“It wasn’t her, though,” Ginny stated darkly.

“Here it comes,” Dean sighed tiredly.

Ginny threw him an angry look. “You know it wasn’t her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean peered at his girlfriend. “Tell us all about your conspiracy theory and the Heir of Slytherin.”

“It _was_ the Heir,” Ginny huffed. “Not Luna.”

“There is no Heir of Slytherin,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah?” Ginny snapped at him. “Then who attacked all those students, hm? Was that also Luna’s Erumpent?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Dean replied, sounding as if this wasn’t the first time he discussed this with his girlfriend. “But it wasn’t any heir or a mysterious monster of Slytherin. I mean, seriously, where would a monster hide? This is a _school_ , for Merlin’s sake.”

“ _Why_ would Luna hurt Neville?” Ginny inquired sharply. “They were _friends_.”

“It was an accident,” Dean returned in exasperation.

“How would you know?“ Ginny challenged. “The only witness was _Riddle_.”

“Tom found the Erumpent, right?” Hermione asked, trying to remember that story.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “He captured it and also found out it was Luna’s”

“Doesn’t proof anything,” Ginny hissed stubbornly.

“Well, the attacks stopped after the Erumpent was taken away,” Dean remarked only to receive a furious scowl from his girlfriend.

“You mean the attacks stopped after _someone_ found a scapegoat.”

†

Somehow the conversation with the Gryffindors didn’t want to leave Hermione alone. Only a few hours later, she found herself stepping into the girls’ toilet on the second floor. Cold chills darted down her spine as she entered the room. A boy had died here and it was as if the room itself screamed that at everyone who dared visit. Apprehensively, Hermione peered at the rows of toilet stalls. All were empty. The silence pressed down on her. Only a dripping tap from the sinks could be heard. The steady noise echoed numbly from the walls. Hermione wanted to turn around and leave, but somehow her feet urged her forward. Puddles of stagnant water had gathered on the tiled floor.

Her anxious steps led Hermione to a row of sinks. Time had turned the mirrors above the sinks dusty and clouded, witness to the abandonment of this place. As Hermione blinked at her indiscernible reflection in the mirror, she spotted a dark blotch hovering over her mirror image. Suddenly, the blotch moved and Hermione gasped in fright. Hastily, she whirled around.

“What are you doing here?” a strangely distorted voice spoke to her.

With wide eyes, Hermione looked up at the figure hovering in front of her. The silvery body of the ghost was translucent. Hermione glimpsed the Hogwarts’ uniform, grey and colourless, hugging the boys form. Milky eyes stared down at her, suspicion glinting in them.

“Y- You are Nagging Neville,” Hermione whispered softly.

The ghost took her in, distrust colouring his transparent face and corrected in a quiet voice, “My name is Neville Longbottom.”

Quickly, Hermione nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

The ghost continued to hover in front of her, never getting any closer. After a moment’s silence, Neville asked hesitantly, almost as if not expecting to get an answer,

“Who are you?”

Hermione smiled up at him. “Hermione Rookwood.”

“Her-my-o-nee…?” Neville mused, running a hand through his colourless hair. “I’ve never seen you before. What year are you?”

“Seventh,” Hermione replied. “But I only came to Hogwarts this year.”

“A transfer?” Neville inquired curiously, floating a bit closer to her. “Where do you come from?”  
  
Sticking to her lie, Hermione said, “London. I was home-schooled before.”

Neville nodded in understanding. “That explains why you walked in here. No-one warned you about me?”

Hermione bit her lip, but decided to this time stick to the truth. “They actually did. But I wanted to talk with you.”

Honest surprise crossed Neville’s face and he whispered shakily, “Talking with me? No-one wants to talk with me.”

“Well, I do.”

Neville shook his head in disbelief, before his empty eyes again fixed on her, “Why?”

“I… I was wondering…” Hermione mumbled, not sure how to breach the subject. “Erm… how you died.”

“Oh,” Neville breathed.

He flew a bit away from Hermione and turned his back to her. It was obviously not something he liked to talk about.

“I… I heard the story,” she told Neville cautiously. “And there’s so much unclear. I thought, maybe, you can tell me what really happened.”

The ghost heaved a deep sigh, before he reluctantly turned around to her. His gaze shyly skimmed over Hermione as he replied, “Something killed me.”

Hermione nodded. “Do you know what it was?”

“No.” Neville nervously wrung his hands. “But they say it was an Erumpent.”

“And you believe that?” Hermione inquired gingerly.

“Why would they lie?”

Raising her eyebrows at him, she asked, “Well, what’s the last thing you remember before you died?”

“The last thing?” Neville’s gaze wandered up to the ceiling as he thought. “I was hiding away in this bathroom. Luckily, I had a few chocolate frogs stuffed in my schoolbag so-“

“Wait,” Hermione interrupted him. “You were hiding? Why?”

Neville squirmed at the question. He floated a bit higher as if aiming to disappear through the ceiling. After a while he squeaked out,

“Malfoy. I was hiding from Malfoy.”

“ _Draco_ Malfoy?” asked Hermione, confused.

Neville peered at her. As he found no scoff on her face, he drifted a bit closer to her.

“Since I entered Hogwarts, Malfoy was picking on me,” he disclosed awkwardly. “That day, he cornered me and threatened to curse me if I didn’t give him my Herbology homework.” An embarrassed sheen entered Neville’s eyes as he continued, “So, I ran for it. Herbology’s the only class I was really good at. I didn’t want to get a bad grade because Malfoy stole my essay.”

Hermione looked at him and replied wryly, “Well, I can’t blame you. Draco’s a right prick.”

Neville chuckled softly. Then he continued his story, “So I ran away. Somehow I ended up hiding in the girls’ toilet. I figured he wouldn’t think to check there.”

“And he didn’t?” assumed Hermione.

The ghost shook his head. “No. He probably gave up searching right after five minutes. Still, I waited a bit longer in one of the toilet stalls. I think I was there for half an hour as I heard someone talking.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Draco?”

“No,” Neville supplied. “It was a boy’s voice, though. But not Malfoy. And the guy was speaking an odd language. It was strange. I mean, what’s a guy got to do in a girls’ toilet?” He scratched his head and laughed sheepishly. “Other than hiding from bullies, of course.”

Hermione grinned up at him. “Sometimes, hiding is the best option.”

“Yeah.” Neville smiled but it quickly slipped from his face as he continued his story, “I actually thought all the students were down in the Great Hall for dinner. But then, what’s the guy doing here? So, I cautiously opened the toilet stall to see who it was.” He blinked at Hermione in confusion as he ended, “That’s when I died.”

“Wait,” said Hermione in bewilderment. “ _How_ did you die? I don’t understand.”

Neville shook his head. “Me neither. The last thing I remember is looking into a pair of big yellow eyes. And that’s it.”

It didn’t clear up anything. Hermione wasn’t sure, but she doubted Erumpents had big yellow eyes. There was another thing not adding up though.

“If it was a boy’s voice you heard,” she questioned suspiciously. “, then why did Luna Lovegood get blamed for your death.”

The ghost scanned her thoughtfully. “I really don’t know. My memory is hazy. I’m quite sure it _was_ a boy’s voice but…”

“It’s no good as proof,” Hermione ended for him.

Neville shrugged his pale shoulders. “Not enough, apparently.”

She worried her lip as she looked at the ghost. Neville hovered a bit closer. After hesitating shortly, he suggested,

“You could ask Luna, you know.”

Hermione blinked at him in surprise. “Luna Lovegood? Do you know where she is? I thought, she was expelled after… you died.”

“She was.” Neville nodded. “But she didn’t leave Hogwarts. Professor Trelawney took her in as her apprentice.”  
  
“Trelawney?” Hermione echoed pensively. “She is divination teacher, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Neville. “I hope Luna likes being her apprentice. I know, she always liked divination.”

Somehow, nothing around Neville’s death made sense. The more Hermione heard, the less added up. Tom had insisted that Hermione didn’t take divination. Secretly, she had been grateful. But maybe be should visit Lovegood...

“You were friends with Luna?”

The ghost nodded solemnly. “Yes. We were good friends, although we were in different houses.”

This was getting more and more complicated, Hermione decided as she scanned Neville’s ghost.

“So… you were hiding in here and then heard a boy’s voice,” she resumed cautiously. “Then you saw those yellow eyes. And that’s all you remember? What happened after you saw those eyes?”

“I was floating,” the ghost replied quietly. “Like I was in water. I couldn’t breathe. But then again, I didn’t need to." His eyes fell from Hermione and he stared down at the white tiles of the floor. “I floated forever. And looked down at my body. I couldn’t believe it was me. I recognized myself, but it wasn’t me.” Neville’s voice was suddenly toneless. “It was just lying there. I’ve never seen my body like this. It looked so strange.”

His eyes focused on Hermione but somehow he still wasn’t looking at her. The shyness and embarrassment were completely absent on his face and had left behind a blank.

“My eyes were closed,” Neville said softly. “It’s funny because the last thing I remember is them being open wide, staring into those yellow eyes. Then… nothing. I don’t remember closing my eyes.”

The ghost sent Hermione a thin smile. She couldn’t help but notice how hollow it suddenly was.

“I just lay there,” Neville continued in a level voice. “On the tiles. With closed eyes. You know, my body wasn’t broken or anything. It was whole. No injuries. No blood. You could have thought I was sleeping there on the floor. Although… it was painfully obvious that I was not. Sleeping, I mean. I couldn’t say what it was, but you only had to glance at me and knew I wasn’t sleeping …knew that I was dead. There didn’t need to be any blood. It was obvious.”

“Did it hurt?” Hermione dared to ask.

“I don’t know,” Neville sighed. “I don’t remember. Just like I don’t remember closing my eyes or how I fell on the floor.”

Hermione eyes Neville and asked tentatively, “What happened then?”

His blue eyes wandered back to her and a sad smile slightly curved his lips.

“I was found.”

Hermione nodded. Silence stretched between them. Her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the spot on the tiled floor. Hermione was glad it hadn’t been her to find him. After a while, Neville’s soft voice destroyed the silence,

“My parents never visited me.”

Hermione looked up at him and was surprised to find no accusation on his face.

“They could have come here to see me,” he stated colourlessly. “But they didn’t.”

“M- maybe they couldn’t bring themselves to do it,” whispered Hermione.

“I know,” Neville replied. “I don’t blame them. It just would have been nice to see them.”

“They might change their minds,” she said cautiously. “In a few years, they might just come and visit you.”

“Yeah.” Neville shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they will. But… it wouldn’t be the same. Not like before.”

Hermione nodded as her thoughts were forcefully tugged towards her parents. Would she want to see them again as ghosts? Maybe they would blame her. Or would be disappointed in her…

“I’m really sorry this happened to you,” Hermione finally said, her voice hoarse.

Neville glanced at her. “Me too,” he said, his tone again so controlled. “Sometimes I’m really angry about it.”

Hermione gulped down a lump in her throat as she looked up at the ghost. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No problem,” Neville said, now smiling again kindly. “If you find the time, come visit me again.”

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom disinterestedly looked down at Black’s form. The other Slytherin lay on the floor, twisting and squirming in pain. The nice feeling of the Torture Curse reverberated merrily through Tom’s magic as he held Black under its power. With detached curiosity, he watched Black’s fingers desperately clawing at the floor, futilely trying to get away. His fingernails scraped over the stone tiles, snapping and breaking into a bloody mess. Still maintaining the curse, Tom admired the strange patterns the red blood painted on the floor. He only wished he could enjoy this more.

Sadly, though, Tom needed Black and his familial ties. Tom had reached the point where he had exhausted the knowledge of the Founders’ book and needed to expand. Frankly, it was pathetic. The greatest wizards of their time and they had not seen fit to leave behind anything of importance? There were no clues that might lead to the last two missing objects. Ravenclaw’s Diadem and Slytherin’s Locket might be Tom’s, but he was no closer to the other objects than he had been months ago. In fact, he didn’t even know what it was that Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had left behind.

The situation certainly was a bit… _aggravating_.

Tom’s gaze swiped over the trembling form lying at his feet. The power of the Torture Curse violently ripped at Black. Indifferently, Tom watched tears of pain running down the other Slytherin’s cheeks and wondered if he was wasting his time. The Blacks’ library was quite comprehensive, but maybe it couldn’t provide Tom with the information he wanted. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were quite troublesome. Tom had never liked the two houses. _Stupid and rash_. He crinkled his nose in disgust, but finally ended his curse. Thankfully, Black’s piercing screams ebbed away and turned into repulsive sniffles.

“I need that book,” Tom declared coldly, as he scanned the fallen Slytherin. “I don’t think you appreciate how much.”

Black’s reply was shaky, pain wrapped around each word, “I- I need more t- time.”

“My patience is wearing thin, Black,” Tom stated, his soft voice contrasting with the underlying threat.

“I p- promise,” Black snivelled pathetically, heaving himself into a kneeling position. “I’ll find t- the book for you.”

Tom almost rolled his eyes at his follower’s submissive behaviour. It was embarrassing. If Tom hadn’t been so irked by this whole situation, he would certainly have enjoyed Black’s humiliation a lot more. As it was, though, he simply wanted to get his point across.

“Of course you will,” Tom hissed icily.

He promptly raised his wand, just to reinforce his order. The incantation hummed through his magic, eager to inflict pain. The Torture Curse hit Black and his agonized screams were back. Tom watched the Slytherin squirm, but not for long this time. A voice interrupted him.

“Tom!” the voice cried pleadingly. “Stop!”

Instantly, the curse collapsed. Tom tensed and whirled around to the door. Witnesses was the last thing he needed. His wand was raised at the newcomer, ready to attack, as he recognized the figure. Of course, it would be _her_ to undo his secrecy charms. Tom relaxed a bit. He had already seen himself cursing Slughorn. That would have been a nightmare to cover up. Thank Merlin it was only his little Mudblood.

“Hermione,” Tom greeted her, cocking an interested eyebrow at the shock colouring her face. “How did you get in here?”

Hermione stared at the scene in front of her. Regulus was lying on the floor, tear tracks on his cheeks. Tom was standing over him and his wand casually lay in his hand. As if she had stepped into a still life, Hermione stared at it all. The scene was bizarre. The pale wood of Tom’s wand, Regulus’ tears glistening in the torch light and the remnants of Dark Magic dancing through the air, painted a surreal, almost beautiful picture. It made Hermione’s breath hitch and turned her thoughts into a jumbled mess. All the snippets and images swirled in front of her and in the eye of the storm was that one little curse. That curse which was designed solely to inflict pain. A curse that Hermione had neither seen nor felt for a very long time – a different life time actually – and a collision would be unwanted and decidedly devastating.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a voice that didn’t sound like her own at all.

Tom smirked at her, amused as if the situation didn’t solicit a certain amount of sobriety.

“I thought that would be quiet obvious,” Tom replied, his velvety voice inappropriately calm. “Now, how did you find me?”

“I… I…” Hermione furrowed her brows. “I walked by and I felt…”

She had felt her Dark Mark reverberate with Tom’s magic. Hermione glanced at Regulus, shakily getting up. He was Tom’s _friend_. Was that the way Tom treated friends? Feeling almost painfully numb, Hermione shook her head.

“What are you doing?” she repeated, again in that terribly strange, scratchy voice.

Was there even an explanation that could justify this _curse_ washing back into Hermione’s life? It… it did not _belong_ here. Not in Hogwarts, not in this other life.

“What are you _doing_ , Tom?” Now accusation seeped into Hermione’s tone. “I… _How_ can you use that curse?! It’s- Do you know what it _does_?”

Tom’s icy blue eyes took her in, wandered over her shaking frame, and the smirk dropped from his lips. Hermione had no way to read him as he replied in a cold, perfectly controlled voice,

“Of course I do.”

Glancing at Regulus, Tom ordered in a tone that brooked no disobedience, “Leave us.”

Hermione noted with cold horror how Regulus bowed to Tom. Then he turned and threw her a fearful look before he disappeared through the door, leaving Hermione alone with Tom.

“Tom…” Hermione looked at him pleadingly. “You can’t- can’t use that curse. Never. Do you understand?”

Tom remained to be completely unimpressed by her dismay. His eyes were two expressionless chips of ice. Ignoring her statement he said, a dangerous tint entering his voice,

“It’s almost curfew. You should return to your common room.”

Although phrased like a suggestion it was an order. Cold and sharp it cut into Hermione and fear – an old and well known fear – mounted up in her. She knew she had to obey.

And yet, Hermione found she could not. She was afraid by the baleful shadow lurking behind Tom’s eyes, but she just couldn’t comply. That curse could bring back many memories, but Hermione wouldn’t let her lives collide. Future and past must be separated. Fierce determination made her raise her face and look Tom squarely in the eyes. Wasn’t it him who had promoted this separation? So, Hermione opened her mouth and told him what had to be truth, 

“I don’t care what I _should_ do.”

Instantly, the expression on Tom’s face turned lethal as her defiance filled the silence. He took a threatening step towards her. He stood so close now, she could feel his warmth seeping through her own clothes. But there was no warmth, only menace, in his voice as he hissed,

“Don’t defy me.”

Maybe he was right, Hermione wondered frantically – her thoughts being all mangled and distraught – but if he was right, what did that mean? That everything would collapse like a house of cards?

“No,” Hermione enforced, her voice firm. “I _don’t_ care. I’m done taking orders.”

Tom’s magic gave a violent budge as he heard her words. Hermione wasn’t expecting it and was completely taken off guard as he suddenly reached for her and grabbed her wrist tightly. With his other hand he took a hold of her sleeve and shoved it up her arm. Mercilessly, Tom forced her arm up so she had to look at the horrible mark which was tattooed into her skin, standing out like an abomination.

“You belong to me,” Tom whispered dangerously. “Don’t mistake my leniency for freedom.”

Shock clenched tightly around Hermione, threatening to devour her, as he forced her to look at the Dark Mark. For so long, it had had power over her life. That mark, black ink and magic cut into her skin, had been the truth. Until she had been able to recognize the lie. Tom… _Tom_ had taught her. Turning that lie back into truth was not an option. Hermione gritted her teeth as her fear turned into anger. Violently she ripped her arm away from Tom’s grip.

“Don’t touch me!”

Her eyes flashed up to his only to find the same angry fire blazing back at her. Hermione bared her teeth and snapped, “Stay away from me, Tom Riddle.”

Angrily she tugged her sleeve down, hiding the Dark Mark. It was still a lie and it would remain to be a lie. Hermione rushed past Tom to the exit. She had barely taken a step as she again felt Tom’s hand on her arm. His fingers painfully bit into her skin as he twirled her around. Ice blue eyes glinted with a disturbing light and Tom’s mouth was twisted into a snarl as he hissed,

“Don’t you dare walk out on me, Hermione.”

Hermione’s magic crackled in the air, mirroring her fury, and pushed against Tom’s dark one. Tom still held her in a brutally tight grip. Then he opened his mouth and the word was frosted over with ice as he ordered,

“Apologize.”

For a second Hermione just stared at him in disbelief. There was poison in his penetrating gaze. Poison and threat.

“No!”

Fury made her blood rush loudly in her ears. She pulled at her arm, trying to make Tom release her. He merely tightened his hand painfully. Hermione’s free hand fisted around the lapels of his black Slytherin robe and pushed violently. Tom wouldn’t budge, nor would his vice-like grip on her loosen. An angry snarl left Hermione and she rammed her elbow forcibly into his chest. Tom groaned and released her abruptly. Hermione stumbled away from him and crashed into a near-by table.

Shakily, she rubbed her aching side where she had made hard contact with the edge of the table. The pain only reinforced the fury that already stormed inside of her. Eyes burning with wrath, Hermione glared at Tom.

“What _the hell_ is wrong with you?!”

“Nothing is wrong with me,” Tom replied, his voice eerily calm despite the murderous tint colouring it. “But you seem to have forgotten your place.”

“My place?” Hermione echoed his words, disgust ripping at her. “My _place_ …? Pray tell, what exactly is my place?”

“You are a _Mudblood_ ,” Tom whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re nothing, Penny.”

That name hit Hermione like a slap to her face. It was her past life and her old name that made Hermione’s anger flare. Just like the mark, it was a lie as well.

“I am _Hermione_.”

An ugly sneer crossed Tom’s face. “Only because I allow it.”

“So I am nothing, am I?” Hermione scoffed derisively. “Is that why you keep me around? The reason why you need my help to find the Founders’ objects?”

“I don’t need your help,” Tom replied darkly. “You’re nothing but a tool I avail myself of.”

Hermione stared at him for a moment and suddenly her anger turned ice cold. As she spoke next there was poison dripping from her controlled words and she hoped they hurt,

“You know what they do with Halfbloods?” A smirk distorted Hermione’s lips. “They kill them, Mr _Riddle_.”

She could see his hands balling into fists, shaking with suppressed rage. Tom didn’t reply anything. He pulled his wand so swiftly Hermione could barely follow the movement. The pale yew wand flashed through the air, followed by Tom’s cold voice,

“Crucio.”

The curse hit her and Hermione instantly crumbled to the floor. Knives were stabbing her face, meticulously cutting her eyeballs out of their sockets. Her tongue was ripped from her mouth, her teeth pulled from her jaws. Sharp blades sliced into her skin. From her throat down to her belly, she was cut open. One after the other her rips broke and bone splinters pierced her lungs. Her abdomen ripped open and the organs were wrenched out. Hermione felt her lungs filling up with her own blood, choking her. Deeper the blades cut, dissecting layer upon layer of Hermione’s body. Torturously slow, the skin was peeled from her limbs. Blood flowed as muscles and tendons were severed and ripped from the naked bone. Hermione screamed and screamed as she felt her body collapsing, dying.

Then the agony was gone. Hermione’s eyes were still intact, her teeth still in her mouth. No blood gushed from deep cuts. Her body was whole. Only hot tears flowed down her cheeks. Limply she lay on the floor, her body shaking violently.

_So familiar._ Her past life, like a twisted resurrection.

The thought made Hermione lips curl up into a smile. She couldn’t control it. Giggles left her mouth, first quiet then louder, while pain wracked her body, bringing with it past truths. She was laughing out loud now. The guffaw brought tears to her eyes. Like a broken puppet, she lay on the cold stone floor, and laughed. She struggled for breath between her mad laughter. The lack of oxygen made her hiccup. Desperately, she gulped in air.

There were soft steps on the stone floor, but Hermione couldn’t hear them over her hysteric laughter. An unforgiving hand was on her arm, then she was pulled up. Hermione winced painfully as she was forced to stand.

“Shut up!” a sharp voice ordered her, finally stopping her laughter.

Hermione’s head swirled and she felt sick, but she still raised her face. Cold blue eyes gazed down at her. Hermione couldn’t say anything as she stared at Tom and he glared down at her. She could feel tears running down her cheeks. They must have been caused by her laughter.

“ _Never_ doubt my authority!” Tom hissed, menace twisting his voice cruelly.

Hermione trembled as the echoes of pain pulled at her. That pain was – although she hadn’t felt it in a long time – oh so familiar.

“You are mine, Hermione.” Tom’s voice mercilessly cut through her misery. “And you will obey me.”

Hermione was unable to voice anything. Her throat had tied up as the truth pulled her away. She was ripped from Hogwarts and thrown into her past. A past that had no place for students but only for slave girls with no rights at all. Hermione stared up at the wizard, eyes wide and uncomprehending.

Had she been dreaming?

Something flickered through blue eyes, then Hermione felt her arm being released. She didn’t try to get away. There was no fury on Tom’s face anymore. He was devoid of any emotion as he stated,

“You belong to me. I can do with you whatever I want.”

Once again, Hermione’s lips twisted up into a smile. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Why did she smile? Hermione felt numb. There was no fear nor panic and she smiled. The truth pressed down on her, constricting, taking her breath away. Hermione felt dizzy and small and useless. Memories overwhelmed her. Cruelly and relentlessly, they infested her mind, trapping her in her past. The misplaced smile on her face stayed fixed in place. So, Hermione bent her head to hide it and whispered in a hollow voice,

“Yes, Master.”

She didn’t notice nor cared how she addressed the wizard. His heavy gaze rested on her for a long moment. He didn’t say anything and Hermione stared down at the floor, that cursed smile still distorting her features. The remnants of his curse tugged at her painfully, but she didn’t move a muscle. Finally, Tom ordered,

“Go to your dorm, Hermione.”

“Yes, Master,” was what she replied and her voice was as emotionless as his had been.

Then she turned and left the room. Through dark corridors and empty hallways she walked. She lost the unwelcome smile on her way and as she arrived in her dormitory the red and gold was mocking her.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**“Now let us walk back, slowly, as we came.**

**We will light the room with candles; they may shine**

**Like rows of yellow eyes.**

**Your hair is like spun fire, by candle-flame.**

**You smile at me – say nothing. You are wise.**

**For I think of you, flung down brutal darkness;**

**Crushed and red, with pale face.**

**I think of you, with your hair disordered and dripping.**

**And myself, rising red from that embrace.”**

**\- Conrad Potter Aiken**

**(*1889 † 1973)**

 

 


	20. Wishes of my Heart

The next day, Hermione woke to the chatter of Parvati and Lavender, discussing the last DADA lesson. Lavender seemed to have developed quite the crush on Lupin. Hermione listened for some time, still lying motionlessly in her four-poster. Her body hurt, the pain a reminder of the events of the previous day. She closed her eyes and tried not to think. Sometimes she had done that back in Malfoy manor, lying in her small cot until she was able to face the new day.

“Hermione?” a voice – Parvati – disturbed her. “Are you up?”

“Yes,” she replied, surprised by how blank her own voice sounded.

“Good,” said Parvati cheerfully. “Hurry if you still wanna get some breakfast.”

“Okay.” Once again Hermione’s voice was scarily empty. “Thanks.”

She could hear the door to her dorm being opened, then closed again and the merry chatter left. Hermione sat up in bed and opened the curtains around her four-poster. She squinted her eyes as they were assaulted by the bright morning sun. Listlessly, Hermione left her warm bed. Her whole body throbbed painfully and she cautiously wobbled over to the bathroom.

Not much later, she started to pack her things for the day. A roll of parchment fluttered out of her school bag and sailed down on the ground. Hermione reached for it. It was her last Transfiguration essay. McGonagall had given her an O on the essay and Hermione had been so proud. Her eyes wandered over the text, not taking anything in. Slowly, her fingers tightened and the essay crumbled in her hand. The ball of parchment slipped from her fingers and rolled under her bed.

Mechanically, Hermione grabbed her bag and left the dorm. The Torture Curse made her body feel stiff and sore, but she knew the pain would eventually ebb away. Opening the portrait hole, she left the Gryffindor common room and stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted Tom waiting for her in the corridor.

“Morning,” he greeted and inclined his head.

His face was a blank as he calmly gazed at her. Hermione forced all emotion from her own face and replied politely, “Good morning.”

Tom’s blue eyes shortly skimmed over her. His brow furrowed slightly and he seemed to want to comment on something, but then he just said,  

“Let me walk you to the Great Hall.”

Hermione nodded silently. As they walked through the corridors and down flights of stairs, she wondered how she felt about the situation. Did Tom make her feel uncomfortable? Maybe. Or angry? Vindictive? No. Not really. Cautious, probably. She couldn’t tell. It was just strange that Tom had picked her up today. Hermione glanced at the Slytherin. He walked beside her looking as handsome and unapproachable as ever. If she was honest with herself, she _did_ feel betrayed by him. It was a stupid notion, though. Thinking back, at no point in time had Tom ever told her that he saw something more in her than his servant.

†

Tom eyed the curly-haired witch sitting at the Gryffindor table and conversing with her friends, smile on her face. Hermione couldn’t fool him, though. It was plain to see that yesterday hadn’t left her unaffected. She was pale and there were dark rings under her eyes while she held her body delicately. Tom knew that the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse afflicted her. A slight smirk curled his lips as his eyes wandered over Hermione’s body. She had deserved the curse. Admittedly, he hadn’t planned to curse her. He had lost his temper. But Hermione _had_ deserved it, Tom decided coldly while he observed the girl. She had dared to defy him. He had _needed_ to correct her intolerable behaviour. Tom was pretty sure that after her punishment, Hermione would be a lot more obliging.

“Riddle…” Bellatrix’ sultry voice poured into his ear.

Tom looked at her. The girl sat beside him, sipping a cup of tea, as she observed him expectantly.

“What?” he said impatiently.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at him. It almost made Tom smirk. The witch was one of the very few people who knew the real him and still dared to act so casual around him.

“Are you still not bored of your little bird?” Bellatrix nodded towards the Gryffindor table.

A vile smirk curled Tom’s lips at the question. He cocked an eyebrow at Bellatrix and noted amusedly,

“Why do you care so much?”

Bellatrix pursed her lips into a pout and put her cup down on the table. She scannend him in irritation before she said, “Because you’re much less fun since she’s around.”

Tom couldn’t help but chuckle at the suggestion. He supposed he liked Bellatrix in a rather convoluted way. He did appreciate how they shared the same definition of ‘fun’. Languidly, Tom leaned back in his seat.

“You could go and play with your own toys,” he suggested evilly.

Bellatrix jutted her chin stubbornly, still insisting on her angry pout. “I already did that.”

“I’m not here to entertain you,” Tom told her boredly.

It didn’t help wiping the sulky expression from the witch’s face. Tom sighed. A bored Bellatrix was always a dangerous Bellatrix and he was not in the mood to clean up after her.

“What about that Hufflepuff guy?” Tom remarked. “What’s his name? He’s in their Quidditch team.”

A contemplative streak entered Bellatrix dark eyes. “Herbert Fleet?”

“Yes. Didn’t you say he was interesting?”

Slowly, Bellatrix full lips twisted into a rather disturbing smile. “He certainly is easy on the eyes.” She peered pensively at the Hufflepuff table, but then decided sullenly, “No. No, I’m not in the mood.”

Tom shrugged easily and mentioned, “Well, he has a girlfriend anyway. Also Hufflepuff, as far as I know…”

Contently, he watched a malicious look crossing Bellatrix’ face. Once again she stared at the Hufflepuff table, predatory glint in her eyes.

“If you put it like that, I basically _have_ to do something.” She smiled a dangerous smile. “I mean we already have _way_ too many Hufflepuffs. Don’t need them procreating any further.”

“Suit yourself,” Tom replied. “Whatever you do, though, don’t leave any traces.”

“Pshaw. You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m not like your stupid girlfriend,.”

†

Hermione was sitting in the potions classroom but the usual mix of joy and excitement she felt in every class failed to appear. Numbly, she listened to Slughorn going through the different steps of brewing the Draught of Peace and wrote down the important parts. She did it mechanically, not really putting much effort into it. The Draught of Peace was a rather difficult potion and, considering Hermione’s skill in that subject, she was sure to mess up. Surreptitiously, she glanced at her potions partner. Tom was sitting beside her, calmly copying whatever Slughorn said, although he probably knew everything already. Uneasily, Hermione wondered what Tom would do to her if she managed to mess up their potion and his grade. She shuddered as she remembered the pain of the Cruciatus and quickly averted her eyes from Tom, refocusing on her parchment. Her notes were an illegible scrawl, but Hermione didn’t care.

This was a far cry from the first class she had ever attended. Back then, she had happily drunk in everything the professor had said and had completely enjoyed herself. _Idiot_ , a cruel voice sneered at her and Hermione had to agree. She could dance around in her pretty school uniform all she wanted, it didn’t make her a student. Yesterday, Riddle had reminded her of what she really was.

“Let’s start with the practical part of this class,” Slughorn’s voice happily rang through the classroom. “Please, work in pairs for this potion can be rather tricky.”

Hermione glumly cast a glance at Tom. He skimmed over the notes he had taken. She didn’t move, but merely sat on her chair and stared blankly at the parchment in front of her. Waiting. 

“I’ll get the ingredients,” Tom stated neutrally. “You can start with lighting the fire and get the water boiling.”

“Yes, Tom,” Hermione replied servilely. It was a tone of voice she had honed over many years.

Hermione caught Tom’s blue eyes lingering on her for a moment. Luckily, he didn’t voice anything and went to get the ingredients. Hermione released a breath of air as he stepped away from her. Glancing at the instructions, she filled the required amount of water into the cauldron before she waved her wand thus igniting a fire under the kettle.

Then Hermione stood beside the cauldron, head bowed, while she waited for Tom to return. Around her the other students chatted animatedly. Slughorn didn’t mind his students talking with each other during the practical part of the class. Hermione remained to be silent and stared down at the tips of her shoes. She stiffened as Tom returned to their table. Without saying anything he placed the potion ingredients on the worktop then he checked the cauldron. His blue eyes flashed at her and Hermione had to pull herself together to not shy away from him.

“Go ahead and crush the rose thorns,” he ordered her.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, almost adding a ‘Master’ at the end.

She turned away from him and filled the thorns into the mortar before she reached for the pestle. In the meantime, Tom prepared the bat spleen which had to be added next into the potion. As she grinded the thorns, Hermione remembered their last potion class. Back then she had pelted Tom with questions about the potion, the ingredients and really anything she could think of. Now, she was completely silent. In fact, there were hardly any words exchanged between Tom and Hermione until Slughorn boomed, clapping his hands,

“Time’s up. Let’s see how you managed.”

Some of the students groaned at that, others beamed confidently; Hermione simply put down the ladle and waited. She again felt Tom’s eyes on her, but he didn’t say anything. Hermione was glad he didn’t. It would probably have been a rebuke, considering that their potion was a dirty orange colour instead of the required yellow.

Hermione watched as Slughorn slowly meandered through the classroom, testing the work of his students. It wasn’t long and the professor reached Tom’s and her table, expectant look on his face. Pursing his lips, Slughorn bent over the cauldron.

“Hm,” he tsked as he stirred the potion contemplatively. “The colour is slightly off, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tom in an expressionless voice.

Slughorn straightened up and scanned Riddle, before he said, disappointment in his voice, “I’m afraid, I can only give you an ‘E’ for that.”

Hermione looked up as she heard that. She knew that Riddle had never gotten anything less than an ‘O’. Something had gone wrong with the potion, though Hermione didn’t know what or how. Still, she knew her duty. So, Hermione cleared her throath and said,

“Sir, it’s my fault. I ruined the potion.”

Slughorn’s eyes fell on her and he smiled at her broadly. “Now now, Ms Rookwood ‘ruined’ is such a strong word. It still is a good potion.”

Hermione cast a fleeting look at Tom. His face was stony and unreadable.

“I added the wrong amount of antimony,” she said softly. “It was completely my fault. Tom didn’t do anything wrong.”

Slughorn grinned at Riddle conspiratorially. “I see you managed to win over such a lovely lady, didn’t you Tom?” Then he addressed Hermione, “Now, Ms Rookwood. Don’t worry about Tom’s grades. After all he’s my best student.” He clapped Riddle on the back and laughed. “I daresay he should have noticed that mistake before it was too late.”

“You are right, sir,” Tom said lightly, a smile on his face.

_Great_ , Hermione thought numbly as she contemplated that smile on his face. Was he going to punish her for that ruined potion? She nervously bit her tongue as a well-known feeling of apprehension bubbled up in her stomach. It had always accompanied her in Malfoy manor whenever she had caused trouble.

“I expect you in the Heads’ common room after dinner,” Tom told her after Slughorn had finally concluded the lesson.

“Of course, Tom,” affirmed Hermione in the same distanced tone of voice.

She stuffed her textbook and parchment in her bag, wanting to leave as quickly as possible.

“Hey, Hermione,” Ron’s voice called her.

There was a big smile on his face as he fell in step beside her and asked cheerfully, “How was potions?”

Hermione shrugged. “Fine.”

Ron blinked at her and raised his eyebrows. Then he mocked, “What? No rant about how wonderful the class was and how much you learned?”

“No,” said Hermione colourlessly. “Not really.”

“Ah, well…” Ron scratched his head. “I thought it was horrible. Got an ‘A’ though. What did you get?”

“E,” she replied colourlessly.

“Oh, that’s good, isn’t it?” Ron smiled at her.

“I guess so…” mumbled Hermione.

Ron scanned her for a moment through his blue eyes. Then he asked cautiously, “Is something wrong?”

She turned her head and looked up at his freckled face. “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno.” Ron still scanned her in concern. “I kinda miss your enthusiasm about everything school related ...aaaand a nervous breakdown. Because you _only_ got an E.”

Hermione tightly informed, “Ron, I really don’t care about my grades so much.”

The red-head took a cautious step back and declared melodramatically, “Now I _know_ there’s something wrong. What is it?”

“It’s really nothing,” Hermione dismissed his concern. “What do you think is for dinner?”

“Smooth change of subject,” Ron commented dryly. “But okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Fine then,” said Hermione curtly.

He frowned at her as he heard the sharp edge in her voice. Gently, he offered, “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

A faint smile appeared on Hermione’s face and for the first time this day she was truthful as she opened her mouth and said,

“Thank you. But I really doubt anyone can help me.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Well, damn if that doesn’t sound peculiar.”

Hermione chose not to reply and to her immense relief Ron didn’t prod. Instead he pulled her into the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor table. Dean already had a plate loaded with mashed potatoes and meatballs in front of him, shovelling food into his mouth. Ginny sat across from her boyfriend and obviously tried to beat him at who could eat fastest. Ron plopped down beside Dean and quickly filled his own plate, not wanting to be bested. Gingerly, Hermione sat beside Ginny. She wasn’t that hungry herself. Her whole body still throbbed painfully and she just wanted to lie down.

“You gonna eat that?” Ginny inquired, gesturing at a small bowl with carrots.

Silently Hermione pushed the bowl towards Ginny who dumped the contents right over her mashed potatoes.

“What’sh wrong?” the red-head asked around a meatball as she spotted the frown on Hermione’s face.

“Nothing.”

Ron groaned as he heard Hermione’s colourless reply. “Don’t bother, Ginny,” he advised. “Been there done that. She won’t tell.”

“Well…” Ginny scanned Hermione, worry in her eyes. “Okay. Bad day?”  
  
“Something like that,” Hermione mumbled as she listlessly poked her food.

“We’re gonna have a little… er… get-together in the old Arithmancy classroom later,” Dean provided. “You wanna come? We have Butterbeer.”

Ron threw his friend an expectant look. After a second, Dean conceded, ”Okay. We have Butterbeer and _Firewhiskey_. Satisfied?”

“Yep. You gotta advertise this right, man,” Ron grinned. Then he glanced at Hermione. “So, you coming?”

Hermione looked at her friends’ enthusiastic faces. She really wanted to go with them… but no. Hermione sighed tiredly. She couldn’t meet with her friends. After all, her _master_ had already decided how she would spend the evening, hadn’t he? And Hermione really didn’t want another go with the Cruciatus because she had defied Tom. Her stomach knotted painfully at the thought.

“No, I’ll pass,” she forced herself to say.

“Aw, Hermione,” Ginny nagged. “You _have_ to come. It’ll be good for you.”

Hermione shook her head morosely. “I’ll be meeting Tom.”

Ginny scrunched up her face in distaste. Then she mumbled into her potatoes, “I would say, bring him, but I seriously don’t want you to.”

Dean ignored his girlfriend’s bluntness and smiled at Hermione. “If you really had such a bad day, maybe Riddle can help cheer you up?”

He threw a wink in for good measure. Hermione forced herself to smile at him. He meant well.

†

Having no choice, Hermione didn’t meet her friends that evening, but went back to Tom. They didn’t talk much as they sat in the Heads’ common room. Hermione worked on her Charms essay. The atmosphere in the room was oppressive and she wished she could be anywhere else. Even Malfoy manor would be a welcome sight. At least she had known the rules back then: Getting caught lazing off? Slap to the face. Stealing food from the kitchens? A beating and maybe a stinging hex or two. Breaking one of Narcissa’s precious china plates? Woe betide you.

Now? Now, Hermione just didn’t know.

She surreptitiously peered at Tom. With him, it was unclear what she was and wasn’t supposed to do. It was a dangerous situation. Where was the invisible line? At least now Hermione knew that there _was_ such a line. Trying not to sigh, she forced herself to concentrate on her essay. Being a lousy student would probably not please Tom at all. Interrupted only by the scribbling sounds of Hermione’s quill, the tense silence was even more palpable. It was Tom who finally destryed it.

“Look, Hermione,” he said tightly. “You are being unreasonable.”

Hermione stopped writing and put her quill down on the table. She managed to keep her face blank, her gaze politely attentive. In Tom’s blue eyes, though, she could spot frustration shining through.

“I apologize, Master,” Hermione replied in an even voice, bowing her head, even though she didn’t know what she had done wrong.

“You are to call me ‘Tom’,” he snapped irritably.

“Of course, Tom,” she observed clinically.

“You have no reason to behave like a spoiled brat,” Tom hissed, traces of anger lacing his tone. “You disobeyed me. You deserved to get punished.”

Something twitched inside of Hermione’s chest as he said it. _Obedience_. It was the only thing wizards ever wanted from her. It hurt hearing Tom demanding it as well, but Hermione couldn’t allow herself to care. She forced a hollow but polite smile and whispered,

“I shouldn’t have disobeyed you. It won’t happen again, Tom.”

Obviously the composedness in her voice only managed to infuriate him further. His dark magic forebodingly swirled through the air.

“You were being disrespectful, Hermione,” Tom clarified coldly. “You left me no choice but to chastise you.”

She bowed her head and replied, voice painfully distanced, “I am sorry I disappointed you, Tom.”

He hesitated to reply and Hermione could feel his gaze weighing down on her. She looked up at him. The anger was still written all over Tom’s face. There was a strange gleam in his blue eyes as they wandered over her. Finally he gritted out,

“It’s fine. Let’s just forget about the whole thing.”

“Yes, Tom,” was Hermione’s detached reply.

With that she reached for her quill and resumed working on her essay. Once again, the common room was drowned in tense silence. Hermione noticed that Tom didn’t return to his own work. Instead his gaze rested on her heavily. She tried to ignore him. He was very confusing and she just didn’t know what he expected from her.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione wondered why she kept digging. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a pile of her own problems. Maybe she just needed something to distract her with. Or maybe she simply didn’t know when to stop.

In any case, just a few days after Tom Riddle had decided to abandon his role as Hermione’s saviour, she ascended the staircase leading up to the Divination classroom. It was late and Hermione didn’t expect to meet any students. As she entered classroom, the smell of patchouli assaulted her nostrils. The room was hot and stuffy, maybe from all the burning candles standing about. Hermione crinkled her nose as she let her gaze sweep over the so-called classroom. Circular tables stood around, surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little pouffes. The windows were darkened by thick curtains, making the candles the only source of light. It certainly wasn’t what Hermione would call a healthy learning environment.

“How can I help you?”

Hermione startled as a voice came out of no-where. It took her a moment to find its source. There in the back of the room, hidden behind an enormous crystal ball, sat a girl.

“H- hello,” Hermione stuttered, still a bit spooked. “I’m Hermione Rookwood. I… er… I’m searching for Luna Lovegood.”

“You want to see _me_?” The girl smiled blissfully and clapped her hands. “How nice. Did daddy sent you? Is it about the Quibbler? I’m not finished yet. The mating cycle of Wrackspurts is not an easy subject. I’ll have the article finished next week… or maybe the week after?”

“No, no,” Hermione said. “I’m not here… because of that. I just… I’m a student, you see. I need to talk with you.”

“Even better.” Lovegood beamed at her happily. “Sit down. Please, sit.”

Hermione climbed over little pouffes and abandoned crystal balls to reach the table. Smiling hesitantly at Lovegood, she sat across from her. The girl gazed at her with large grey eyes, not at all ruffled by Hermione’s sudden appearance. Her dirty blonde hair glinted merrily in the candle light and a soft smile danced around her lips.

“Tea?” Lovegood asked, invitingly gesturing at the teapot.

“Er… No, thanks. I’m good.”

The girl shrugged and said good-naturedly, “Maybe better. You never know, tea leaves tend to be quite the gossipmongers.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Yes… That is a valid concern.” She uncomfortably shuffled in her seat. “Right. Now I’m here because I wanted to ask you something.”

Lovegood arched her thin eyebrows, big eyes blinking at Hermione. Hermione cleared her throat and said awkwardly, “I heard that you’re the Divination teacher’s apprentice.”

Lovegood bobbed her head enthusiastically. “Yes. It is quite fun. Sybill is very nice.”

“Uh-huh.” Hermione hesitated shortly, not knowing how to best proceed. “I heard what happened. You were expelled, because they suspected you were somehow involved in Neville Longbottom’s death.”

The blissful smile on Lovegood’s face strangely collided with the topic of conversation

“Oh that,” she said serenely. “It was a horrible incident.”

The girl’s eager reply was a bit suspicious. It rubbed Hermione the wrong way. Breathing in deeply to clear her head of the stuffy room’s air, she asked,

“So you really had an Erumpent?”

Lovegood nodded enthusiastically, seemingly all too happy to talk about this. “Yes. She was such a sweet thing. I took her in because she was infested with Nargles.”

“I… see…” Hermione mumbled slowly.

Her eyes wandered over the other girl. Luna Lovegood was certainly a strange one.

“Do you think your Erumpent might have killed Neville?”

Immediately Lovegood shook her head and the smile dropped from her face. “No. She would never hurt anyone.

Hermione nodded. “Where’s she now?”

“She escaped,” the girl said softly. “When Tom tried to catch her, she ran from the room. I think she hid away in the Forbidden Forest.”

Once again, Tom’s involvement in the whole case didn’t sit right with Hermione. Her glum thoughts were interrupted by Lovegood’s voice, “I would have never hurt Neville. He was my only friend.”

“He was in Hufflepuff, wasn’t he?” Hermione inquired.

Lovegood nodded and the blissful smile found its way back to her face. “Yes. The best Hufflepuff there was. I never had any friends in Ravenclaw, you see. Just Neville.”

It was kind of sad how the girl smiled happily while stating something like that. Hermione threw her a comforting look.

“If it wasn’t your Erumpent that caused Neville’s death, what was it then?”

Lovegood pursed her thin lips and thoughtfully tipped with her index finger against her chin.

“It was uncommonly hot that day,” she contemplated excitedly. “Maybe it was a Heliopath. They tend to be more active when it’s hot. But I don’t know how it might have got into the castle.”

Hermione frowned at the girl sceptically. “A Heliopath? I thought they don’t exist.”

Lovegood’s grey eyes widened almost comically. “They do. When daddy and I were on vacation in India, we almost saw one.”

Not wanting to argue, Hermione nodded. “Well, thank you. This was really helpful.”

“No problem, Hermione,” the girl smiled widely. “I like talking to you. Not many of the students want to talk to me.”

†

Although, Lovegood seemed to be an amiable, if a bit strange, person, Hermione felt relieved as she left the Divination classroom behind. Sadly, though, Neville’s death remained a mystery. Hermione couldn’t dismiss the possibility that he had been killed by Lovegood’s Erumpent. Still, there were so many inconsistencies that proving the girl’s guilt beyond doubt was equally impossible. Why had she been so easily expelled? It all came down to Tom’s testimony. He was the only connection between Neville’s death and Lovegood.

Hermione’s stomach instantly dropped at the thought of Tom. There was no way she could ask him. It certainly wasn’t Hermione’s place to interrogate her _master_. The word echoed bitterly through her head. As if to prove that word invalid, she automatically pulled her wand. The contact with the wood soothed her. She wasn’t that powerless slave girl anymore. Her fingers tightened desperately around her wand. _Her_ wand. Mudblood Penny was gone, wasn’t she?

An ice cold waft of air hit Hermione and she turned around. The silvery form of a ghost glided through the otherwise empty corridor. Quickly, Hermione pressed herself against the stone wall, eyeing the ghost apprehensively. It was the Bloody Baron, house ghost of Slytherin. Hermione warily eyed him as he floated closer to her. Since the Grey Lady insisted on yelling at her whenever they crossed paths, ghosts made Hermione edgy. The Baron’s dead eyes wandered over her form.

“It is you,” he said as he angrily gestured at the wand in Hermione’s hand.

“What do you mean?” she inquired cautiously.

“I have heard of you,” the ghost snapped, glaring at her. “I have heard of your wand.”

Hermione’s fingers tightened protectively around her chestnut wand and she asked, “Did the Grey Lady tell you?”

“Lord, no,” the Baron quickly denied. “Helena… does not talk to me.” A dark look twisted his face into something dangerous and he asked demandingly, “Where did you get that wand.”

“Why do you want to know?” Hermione returned, not stepping down.

The Baron floated closer to her, making her shiver. There was a livid gleam in his eyes as he glared at her.

“The wand, girl!” he snarled. “It is not yours. Where did you steal it?”

“I didn’t steal it!” Hermione hissed automatically, although it was a lie.

She remembered her time in Albania with Tom. The wand had found its way into Hermione’s hands as they had searched for Ravenclaw’s Diadem. It was as if it had waited for her in that clearing with Helena’s grave.

“It _is_ my wand,” Hermione stubbornly insisted.

“Oh, no,” the Baron cackled darkly. “I know you are lying, because that wand belongs to me.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she stumbled a step away from the ghost.

“What?” she croaked weakly.

“The wand is mine,” the Baron repeated sharply. “You had no right to take it.”

“I…”

Hermione stared down at the chestnut wand in her hand. Then she desperately looked up at the ghost.

“I need the wand,” she told the Baron pleadingly. “I found it. I swear I didn’t know it belonged to anyone.”

The Bloody Baron still trapped her in his stare, but the anger seemed to bleed from his eyes. As he spoke next his voice was soft, almost sad,

“Does it work well for you?”

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. “It’s a nice wand.”

The ghost’s pale lips curled into a mirthless smile. “I have not laid eyes on that wand since I died.”

“I- in Albania?” Hermione asked timidly.

“Yes,” the ghost replied in a hollow tone. “Deep in a forest.”

“There was a stone coffin,” Hermione told him hesitantly. “The wand… was on the ground.”

“A coffin?” The Baron scanned her piercingly. “…Helena’s.”

Hermione nodded before she asked, “Why was your wand there?”

A grin that never reached his empty eyes streched the Baron’s lip. “I was tracking down Helena. Her mother, Rowena Ravenclaw, had asked me to bring her daughter back to Hogwarts after she had stolen something.”

“Was it the diadem?”

The Baron floated a bit closer to Hermione. “You know about Ravenclaw’s Diadem?” At Hermione’s nod he admitted, “Yes, Helena stole her mother’s diadem.”

“And Ravenclaw wanted it back?” Hermione mused thoughtfully.

“That too,” the ghost replied. “But first and foremost, Ravenclaw wanted me to bring her daughter back. The heiress to her legacy.”

“And you found Helena?” Hermione prodded carefully. “In Albania?”

“Yes. Helga told me of Helena’s hiding place.” The Baron sighed deeply. “As I found Helena, I told her she had to come back. She would not listen and told me to leave her alone… You must know, I had courted Helena for some time and could not accept her rejection. In my disappointment and anger, I lost all reason.” The ghost shook his head, anger on his face. “I reached for my wand and cursed poor Helena.”  
  
Hermione took in a sharp breath of air. “You… That’s how she died, isn’t it?”

The ghost nodded, glum air hovering around him. “She was mortally wounded. The instant I saw her blood gushing from the wound, I regretted what I had done. I hastened to hold her, maybe even heal her with my magic.”

“You couldn’t…” Hermione whispered softly.

“No,” the Baron replied, regret wrapped around his voice. “Helena would not accept my help. With her last strength, she pulled the dagger from my belt and slashed my throat.”

He gestured at the silvery blood dripping all over his ghostly pale clothes. “This is how I died: At the hand of my beloved. Since then, Helena has refused to talk to me. I do not blame her. She has every right to curse my name.”

The Baron’s empty eyes fell to the wand in Hermione’s hand and he stated, “That wand brings nothing but grief. You should get rid of it while you can.”

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom snuck a look at Hermione sitting beside him. The girl was bent over some book or other, hair obscuring her face. Like always lately, she was decidedly taciturn. Since she had entered the Heads’ common room an hour ago, she had barely spoken three words. Obviously, Hermione was insisting on her childish sulkiness and her behaviour had quickly become tiresome. Tom really didn’t understand where her recalcitrance came from. If he wanted to spend time with someone not able to carry on a conversation, he could as well have met with dear old Amy Belby.

As Tom stared at the girl, he once again regretted that she had to alter her appearance with Polyjuice potion. Sadly, this was an unavoidable necessity. His eyes stopped at the smooth skin of her neck where it wasn’t hidden behind her curly hair. Licking his lips, he slid closer to girl. Maybe he should be a generous Master and distract his Mudblood from her silly moping. _He_ certainly could do with some distraction.

Tom reached for the book and pulled it from Hermione’s hands. The girl stiffened and looked up at him in confusion. Tom simply smirked at her. One of his hands slid around her waist and pulled her against him before he placed a fleeting kiss on her lips. Not waiting for her reaction, he gently pushed her down on the couch. Now lying over her, Tom could feel how tense her body really was. She needed to relax.

Eagerly, he let his hands glide over her body, caressing the curve of her waist and skimming over her slim belly. He could feel her body trembling in pleasure under his touches. Smirking contently, Tom buried his face in the crook of her neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in her sweet sent before he traced soft kisses down her neck. Hermione moaned in response and her body tensed as if waiting for more. Not wanting to disappoint, Tom nibbled at her skin and was rewarded by a gasp.

His hand wandered to the back of her head and his fingers carded through her curly hair, gingerly scratching at the base of her neck. Then he tugged her towards him. He could see Hermione’s eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his mouth over her own. His lips moved against hers, drawing her into a kiss, while his hands wandered over her body, caressing, stroking. The girl was shivering in his arms and Tom could feel the warmth of her body under his own. Demandingly, he brushed his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Hermione complied obediently and parted her lips. Tom groaned as he could finally thrust his tongue into her mouth, claiming her. A burning tingle ran over his body as he felt the girl so close.

He could smell her, taste her, touch her and she was all his.

Engaging Hermione in a deep kiss, Tom’s hand wandered to her chest. A hot wave of lust ran through his body as he kneaded her soft breasts. Tom’s greedy lips finally parted with her mouth and wandered down her neck. His kisses on her skin became more demanding. His tongue moved hungily over her and teeth bit her, leaving behind small bite marks. Desire burned feverishly hot through his body. Hastily, Tom undid the buttons of her blouse, making Hermione once again whimper sensually. A moan tore from his own mouth as he could finally run his fingers over her bare skin.

Hermione’s breathing hitched as his fingers wandered down her body. Teasingly, they skimmed over her stomach, passing her belly button, until they reached the waistband of her jeans. Tom slowly opened the button of her jeans as he looked down at the witch. In her pleasure, she had closed her eyes and panted heavily. Tom licked over his lips, still able to taste her, as his eyes feasted on her. Even through her polyjuice-disguised form, Hermione was beautiful. Beautiful, because she belonged to him.

_Because she was his._

.

Hermione forced her body to relax, her breathing going fast, as Tom’s greedy hands wandered over her. His touches burned like fire and at the same time she could barely feel them. A thick layer of fear had wrapped itself around her mind and would not let any other feeling pass. Tom’s kisses had always been something special to her. This time, though, the brackish tang of fear soiled the contentment his kisses usually left behind on her tongue.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want this. There was a threat hanging over her that left her with no control over the situation. The last time she had defied Tom, he had crucioed her. Hermione’s breathing accelerated, but passion had no play in it. Panic swirled through her head and screamed at her to run. Still, Hermione forced her body to just lay there. She didn’t resist Tom as his fingers skimmed over her exposed skin.

As he demandingly tugged at her jeans, fear and panic melted into a wild mixture that Hermione could no longer contain. Her eyes snapped open. Tom was still looming over her. Lust smouldered in his starkly blue eyes as they greedily raked over her exposed body. He still pulled at her jeans, trying to rip the cloth from her. Through her panic, all thoughts were gone. Hermione couldn’t control her body anymore, raised her hands and forcefully pushed Tom away from her. She was a mute observer and watched as she scrambled up from the sofa and ran.

.

Tom knelt on the sofa and his icy blue eyes were fixed on the door that had just snapped shut behind the girl. He hadn’t expected the evening to end quite so abruptly. Annoyance bubbled close to the surface. Already traces of his angry magic bristled around Tom. He felt the urge to follow Hermione and drag her back here. He didn’t, though. Instead Tom let himself fall back on the couch and crossed his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Hermione’s insolence was intolerable. He should find her and punish her. She had no right to refuse him. Hermione was his Mudblood. He had expected her to finally understand this.

Tom irately ran his hand through his black hair and pursed his lips. Of course, he _could_ punish Hermione again, but he didn’t see how that would improve the situation. Before she had fled the room, Tom had seen tears welling in her eyes. So, judging from that physical reaction, she probably hadn’t refused him out of defiance. Hermione had been… _Scared?_ he pondered thoughtfully. While Tom liked exerting his dominance in relationships, including intimate ones, forcing Hermione to sleep with him would strangely feel like a failure. At the very least, it seemed less satisfying than making her moan in pleasure under his body.

Tom sighed deeply and closed his eyes. It would have helped if Hermione had said something earlier…

†

The next day was a Saturday and Tom didn’t see Hermione at all. At first he didn’t notice as he was swamped with Head Boy duties. Then during lunch in the Great Hall, her absence dimly registered. It was as she didn’t seek him out in the common room that Tom realized Hermione was avoiding him. He felt annoyed by her dismissive behaviour.

It was late evening that he finally lost his patience. In the end, it wasn’t that hard to find Hermione. Tom had only needed to step into the library and there she was sitting on a couch in a rather secluded area. He hid himself behind a book shelf and observed the girl. Hermione had taken off her shoes and had folded her legs under her body while her back rested comfortably against the armrest of the couch. Sun rays fell through a near-by window and painted the scene in warm colours. Tom’s gaze skimmed over the book in Hermione’s lap. He couldn’t read its title but, whatever it was, the book managed to make Hermione’s eyes glimmer merrily and curled her lips into a blissful smile.

Tom abandoned his hiding place and stepped closer to Hermione.

She noticed his presence and looked up. The happy smile was gone in an instant and her eyes frosted over. Hermione abandoned her relaxed posture and actually stood up from the couch. Tom already felt his magic twitch in irritation. He stepped over to her and sat down, motioning for her to do the same. Hermione sank down on the sofa as far away from him as possible and let her head hang. She didn’t even want to make eye contact with him. Tom observed her confusedly, but it was Hermione who spoke first.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” she said.

Her voice was free of any emotion. It frustrated Tom. Usually, Hermione had been full of emotion. So unguarded and easy to read. Now, when he really needed to read her, she made it impossible.

“I shouldn’t have run away yesterday,” the Mudblood continued, glancing up at him. “It’s your…“  
  
She stopped there and swallowed. Her brown eyes left him again and stared down at the floor. Then she spoke again and this time her voice wasn’t so controlled anymore. He could hear it shaking ever so slightly.

“I know, it’s your right to… do with me whatever you want.” Again she hesitated, composing herself, before she repeated mechanically, “I shouldn’t have run away.”

Her empty words and her detached tone didn’t help Tom in understanding her. Hermione raised her eyes at him and even her face was a blank. Once again her emotions were hidden behind a wall

“I am sorry I defied you, Master,” she said in a steely voice.

Her title for him had subtly changed its meaning. It stopped to transport submission but was now used to push him away. Tom didn’t like it. Contemplatively, he eyed Hermione’s closed off face. He needed to somehow make her emotionless front fall. There might be a way to provoke a reaction… Tom slid closer to Hermione and put his hand on her waist. She stiffened under his touch and he deliberately let his hand wander, enjoying the curve of her body.

“So…” Tom murmured softly. “You would not run if the same situation arose again?”

Tom felt her shuddering under his ministrations, but it wasn’t the kind of reaction he would have wanted. Hermione’s brown eyes were empty as she stared up at him. He had been unsuccessful; the blank mask continued to cover her face.

“Of course not, Master,” she replied, distanced.

Tom’s hand lingered on her waist, enjoying her warmth. That warmth clashed quite spectacularly with the frost that seemed to cover her whole posture. Hermione was simply disgusted by his touches, his nearness. Tom pulled back his hand, frustration and anger mounting up in him.

He narrowed his eyes at her and hissed, “Is this still about the crucio?”

If Hermione was surprised by his outburst, she didn’t show it. She stared at him, still with that unnerving blank look.

“No, Tom,” was her steady reply.

Of course she was lying. Tom’s magic reacted and started to irately swirl around him. Hermione flinched, grabbing her left arm where the Dark Mark was hidden. Obviously his anger was hurting her. Tom didn’t pull his magic back.

“Of course it is,” he snapped irately. “Can’t you get over it? It was surely not the first time you were hit by that curse.”

Where Tom’s anger burned inside of him, Hermione was ice cold. There was no emotion on her face, her gaze chilled and distanced.

“No, it wasn’t the first time,” she replied, bitterness hidden in her voice. “And probably not the last time either.”

Tom gritted his teeth. He wished he could just pull his wand and show Hermione how right she was, but he knew it would not change this situation to his advantage. So, he opted for another route. Instead of cursing his Mudblood, Tom pressed out acridly,

“I’m sorry, okay?”

Once again, Hermione disappointed and responded with a veneer of detachment. The apology was not heartfelt, but Tom had expected more of a reaction.

“Why do you apologize?” Hermione asked, her voice infuriatingly level. “There’s no need to apologize to someone like me.”

“Because,” replied Tom, fighting for composure. “, you seem to have issues with it.”

Hermione steadily gazed at him as she stated, “I do not have issues.”

With that she snapped her book shut and stuffed it into her bag. Her brown eyes again fell on him and she added stiltedly, slightly bowing her head,

“Unless you want me to have issues, _Master_.”

Tom merely glared at her. He should curse her until _she_ apologized and stopped her ridiculous behaviour. Tom balled his hands into tight fists. He didn’t stop his magic as it angrily wrenched at Hermione’s bond. She winced painfully, but otherwise did not react.

“Fine,” Tom snapped mordantly. “ _Fine_!”

Without another word, he stood from the couch and left, fuming inside.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

“I just…” Hermione frowned in irritation down at the parchment. “I just don’t understand it.”

Regulus, sitting beside her at the library table, peered at her essay, and commented, “I think it’s pretty good.”

Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands. “That’s just it. Slughorn gave me an O in the last two potion essays.”

Regulus chuckled softly. “You know, ‘Outstanding’ _is_ still the best mark there is.”

“I know,” the Gryffindor sighed and listlessly fiddled with her quill. “How can it be that I write those stupid essays, but screw up every single time I actually brew a potion?”

“Dunno,” Regulus admitted. “I mean, potions theory and practice are two different things.”  
  
“Tell me about it,” Hermione mumbled morosely.

The Slytherin cocked an inquiring eyebrow. “You were home-schooled before you came to Hogwarts. How often could you actually try and brew anything?”

Hermione groaned again and put her head down on the table. _Home-schooled, indeed…_ She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the lies and deceits that allowed her to attend Hogwarts. Eventually, she replied,

“Not terribly much.”

“Well, there you have it,” was Regulus’ answer. “You just need to practice more and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah…”

Hermione sat up and looked at Regulus. The Slytherin threw her an encouraging smile and she was really glad to have him as a friend. Regulus, Ginny, Ron… When they were around, Hermione managed to feel normal, like one of them. It was nice to forget her pile of lies for a moment. The same had been true for Tom, but then he had-

Hermione shook her head; she wasn’t going to think about Tom. As if he were able to read her thoughts, Regulus asked cautiously, “Did you fight with Riddle?”

Hermione arched her eyebrows. She really did not want to talk about this. “What?”  
  
“Because of me.” Regulus bent over his book, trying to hide his face. “You two seem more distanced since… well… since you found us in that classroom...”

Hermione breathed in sharply at the memory. She didn’t want to go back to that classroom where her delusions of being a student had so abruptly died.

As Hermione didn’t reply, Regulus peered at her. “You know…“

He hesitated to continue, but after a moment seemed to have mustered the confidence to continue,

“I’m probably digging my own grave here by telling you this.” Regulus looked at her and sighed. “But I think… you should… I don’t know… consider finding another boyfriend?”

Now Hermione was truly surprised. “I thought you were his friend.”

A small smirk curled Regulus’ mouth as he callously voiced, “We are not friends.”

At her raised eyebrows, he continued, “Oh, come on Hermione. Don’t play stupid, it doesn’t suit you. You’ve seen what Riddle did to me. Friends don’t treat each other like that.”

Hermione was hard pressed to argue that. “Then why do you hang around him?”

Regulus eyed her for a moment, seemingly pondering something. After a moment, he said carefully, “I tell you that in confidence, okay?” At Hermione’s nod he continued, “In Slytherin, there’s this group, the Knights of Walpurgis. I don’t know quite how to describe it… it certainly is no study group. We are…” He pursed his lips in thought. “Dark? Not the kind of group you would put on a CV if you know what I mean. And Riddle… Riddle’s our leader.”

Hermione didn’t really know what to say to that. She mulled the information over and had to admit, it didn’t surprise her much. It fit the picture didn’t it?

“Why did you join?” she eventually asked. “If you’re not convinced it’s the right thing.”

Regulus shrugged. “Because it’s convenient? Because it’s expected of me? I don’t know. But it’s too late to leave now.”

Hermione nodded, still deep in thought. Regulus stood, grabbed his bag and turned to leave. Before he had taken more than a few steps, Hermione stopped him.

“What happened to Neville Longbottom?”

Regulus froze over, his back ramrod straight. Slowly he turned around to her, his face white as a sheet.

“What do you mean?”

“How did he die?” Hermione asked, calmly gazing at her friend. “I spoke to him. And Luna. I doubt it was an Erumpent.”

Regulus barely managed to look Hermione in the eyes as he whispered, “Then you already know too much.”

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione managed to avoid Tom for the rest of the week. She didn’t want to speak to him or see him at all. Of course, her avoidance tactic wouldn’t solve anything, but Hermione just couldn’t face him. As she had arrived at Hogwarts, Tom had been her anchor in a strange world. Now, he himself had turned into a stranger.

Hermione took to hiding away in the Gryffindor common room. She had been quite moved when Ginny had brought her a box of cauldron cakes, looking a bit worried. The only times Hermione left the commom room was for classes and library visits. Currently, she hurried back from one such visit, clutching her bag full of books tightly. The castle’s corridors were quite abandoned, as she was sailing close to curfew.

That was the reason that no-one heard it as Hermione gasped in pain and doubled over. It was as if she had been stabbed by a knife. Groaning softly, she clutched her stomach and felt the piercing pain spread. Weakly, she stumbled a few steps. As her skin started to burn agonizingly, Hermione knew what happened. Her blood froze over in panic.

How could she have been so stupid? She had been so stressed lately, days blurred together and Hermione didn’t know when she had last taken her Polyjuice potion. Groaning in pain, her shaky hands groped for the bottle of Polyjuice, but as soon as she held the bottle Hermione knew it was no good. It was too light in her hand. Empty. Hermione bit her lip so hard it started to bleed. She hadn’t asked Tom to give her more of the potion.

Another wave of pain hit her and Hermione blindly stumbled down the corridor, leaning heavily on the wall. A few metres further down and she came upon a door. Hermione’s breathing was laboured and tears ran down her cheeks. She couldn’t make out where she was. She groped for the door handle and prayed this was the way into an abandoned classroom.

The door creaked softly as Hermione opened it. Then she dragged herself in the room and the door fell shut behind her. Another gasp of pain left Hermione and her skin felt as if it were boiling. She shuddered helplessly as she felt the last rest of the potion’s effect leave her and her body turned back into her original self. Eyes pressed shut, Hermione stood in the unknown room. Her breathing was still laboured and she painfully held her stomach. For so long she had been disguised by the potion, it now hurt as her body was forced back into its normal form.

“Ms Rookwood?!”

The deep voice made Hermione’s eyes shut open and she whirled around. Her pain was temporarily forgotten as she stared at the man sitting behind the desk. Yellow inhuman eyes burned into her.

“C- Captain Lupin?” His name fell from her quivering lips.

The werewolf got up from his seat and stalked towards Hermione. Fear consumed her completely and her whole body trembled. She felt painfully exposed as his piercing eyes wandered over her body, seeing her true form for the first time. Hermione bowed her head and stared down at the floor. With soft steps, the man circled around her like a wolf around its prey. Hermione didn’t dare move a muscle.  

She still didn’t look up at Lupin stopped before her. Hermione could barely breathe around the anxiety constricting her chest relentlessly. Suddenly there was a gruff hand clasping her wrist. She didn’t fight as her sleeve was shoved up her left arm. Hermione’s stomach twisted into a ball of fear as she stared with shock-widened eyes down at the Dark Mark on her skin, now fully exposed. Lupin’s strong hand mercilessly tightened around her arm. Hermione trembled violently, vision blurring in front of her eyes.

“Please, Professor, don’t…” Hermione pleaded pitifully, not really knowing what for. “Master Lupin…”

“You are a Muggleborn,” the werewolf said in a dangerously controlled voice.

She timidly peered up at him. His wolfish yellow eyes bored into her. Panic wrapped so tightly around her, Hermione couldn’t get out a word. So, she only nodded at him.

“You’re posing as a student…?” the captain stated colourlessly as he released her arm.

Hermione trembled all over while tears ran down her cheeks. She fell down on her knees before Lupin and had her head cast down as she begged hopelessly,

“Please, Master Lupin. Please, don’t tell anyone.”

Hermione knew he wouldn’t listen. It was over. Everything. She gritted her teeth to stop a sob from escaping her. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably as she wondered what they would do to her.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**‘I was in the darkness;**

**I could not see my words**

**Nor the wishes of my heart.**

**Then suddenly there was a great light –**

**"Let me into the darkness again."’**

**\- Stephen Crane**

**(*1871 † 1900)**

 


	21. Dead with Frost

_Hermione trembled all over while tears ran down her cheeks. She fell down on her knees before Lupin and had her head cast down as she begged hopelessly,_

" _Please, Master Lupin. Please, don't tell anyone."_

A hand grasped her shoulder and Hermione flinched. Surprise paralysed her as it wasn't the violent grip she had expected. Instead the hand lay almost comfortingly on her shoulder. Cautiously, Hermione raised her face. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she found Lupin crouching in front of her. There was no angry snarl on his face but a kind smile played around his lips. His yellow eyes weren't so cold anymore. A strange warmth had softened them as they locked with Hermione's gaze.

"Don't worry, little one," he whispered soothingly. "I won't tell anybody."

Complete shock washed over Hermione and her surprise made the friendly smile on Lupin's face broaden.

"Come here," he said gently.

Lupin's grip wasn't painful at all as he gingerly helped her to stand up. Then he led her towards a soft couch and sat her down. Hermione, still trembling all over, obeyed. Lupin sat down beside her and she flinched involuntarily.

"Are you doing this alone?" the werewolf asked gingerly.

Hermione shook her head. "No, Master Lupin. My Master is here at Hogwarts. It was his idea to let me go to classes."

"I see," Lupin mused. His yellow eyes snapped back to her. "And who might your Master be?"

Hermione worried her lip. She shouldn't give away Tom's name. Lupin, seeing her hesitation, grinned at her.

"Let me guess," he said smilingly. "It's Riddle, isn't it?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "How do you know?"

The werewolf's grin only widened. "Wasn't that difficult. The way that boy sneaks around you all the time. Very out of character for him." He rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Now imagine me, thinking that was true  _love_."

Timidly Hermione peered at Lupin. He scanned her interestedly with his yellow eyes. She quickly averted her eyes and stared down at her trembling hands in her lap.

"A- are you really not telling anyone, Master Lupin?"

The man chuckled softly while his gaze still rested on Hermione. "Please," he said amusedly. "Don't call me Master. Sounds creepy."

"Yes, sir," Hermione complied diffidently.

"Hm. Who would have thought, a little Muggleborn going to Hogwarts," Lupin mused, mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, though, my lips are sealed."

"Thank you," Hermione breathed in relief, not able to believe her luck.

Lupin wiped her gratitude away with a wave of his hands. "Don't worry about it." He smiled at her toothily. "Now, I think we need to bring you back to your master."

Hermione stared at him with wide fearful eyes, feeling shaky at the prospect of confronting Tom. Lupin seemed to sense her anxiety and laid a soothing hand on her arm.

"Don't freak out now. But you really need to change back into Ms Rookwood. I assume Riddle has more Polyjuice Potion for you?"

Hermione only managed to nod jerkily. The werewolf patted her arm reassuringly and said softly, "I'll accompany you to Riddle. No-one's gonna see you, I promise."

With that, the werewolf stood up and stepped towards a desk. Hermione watched apprehensively as he rummaged through the olive duffle bag lying on the table.

"Ha," Lupin exclaimed triumphantly and pulled a silvery cloth from the bag.

He shouldered the duffle bag, but pushed the silvery cloth in Hermione's hands. She blinked down at the feather-light fabric. It felt incredibly soft under her fingers, the material smooth and cold as if woven from metal threads.

"You can hide underneath that," Lupin explained smilingly. "It's an Invisibility Cloak."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and threw the cloth over her arm. It instantly disappeared, hidden underneath the cloak's magic. She wriggled her invisible fingers to make sure they were still there, before she looked up at Lupin.

"Thank you, sir."

"No prob." Lupin shrugged. "Haven't used the thing in ages. A friend of mine gave it to me. James Potter was his name." A wistful smile danced around the werewolf's lips. "Why, I think he and Sirius were the nightmare of their boss at the Auror office."

The cloak almost fell from Hermione's grasp. "Sirius? As in Sirius Black?"

The werewolf grinned at her and nodded. "The one and only. He was my liaison officer from the Aurors."

Hermione furrowed her brow, her predicament momentarily forgotten. "Sirius Black was an  _Auror_?!"

"Hard to believe now, isn't it?" Lupin barked out a laugh.

"A little bit," Hermione admitted shyly as she got up from the sofa, invisibility cloak in her hands. "What happened to your other friend? Is he still an Auror?"

The smile instantly fell from Lupin's face. He took the cloak from Hermione and gently wrapped it around her, so she was completely invisible. Then he gestured for her to follow him out the room.

"James died some years ago," Lupin said, grief wrapped around his deep voice. "Got killed while protecting a mother and her one year old son. Too many opponents, even for Jamesy."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered as quietly as she could while they trekked towards the Heads' common room.

The werewolf's yellow eyes fixed on Hermione although she was completely covered by the invisibility cloak. He sent her a weak smile.

"James bequeathed his old Invisibility Cloak to me. Something Sirius has never got over."

They continued their trip in silence and reached the Heads' common room too soon to Hermione's taste. Fear twisted around her relentlessly, making her tremble slightly, as Lupin waved his wand and opened the door even without the password. Then he stepped into the common room, gesturing for Hermione to take off the cloak.

†

Tom heard the door being opened and looked up from his book, expecting to see his Mudblood. He could barely hide his shock as he found Lupin standing in the doorframe and it certainly wasn't Hermione Rookwood who stood, timid look on her face, beside the werewolf. Tom couldn't believe it as he took in the girl. She had changed back. For some unfathomable reason, Hermione was back in her true form in plain sight of a  _teacher_. Quickly Tom shot up from the sofa. He forced a confused yet polite expression on his face as he addressed Lupin,

"Sir? Can I help you?"

The werewolf's yellowish eyes glinted with smug mirth as he stated, "No, Riddle. I am merely here to return something to you."

With that Lupin gently pushed Hermione a little bit further into the room. The girl still hadn't dared to look at Tom. It made his temper rise dangerously. He managed to maintain his façade of politeness and inquired,

"I don't understand, sir…"

The werewolf grinned at him, an annoyingly knowing sheen in his eyes. Lupin stepped into the room and the door fell shut behind him. His hand closed around Hermione's upper arm. Tom's furious magic gave a violent budge as he saw how close Lupin stood to her. The girl still just stared at the floor.

"I think you understand very well, Riddle. At least  _I_  understand things a lot better now," Lupin announced, nasty grin on his face. "Time to give up the charade."

Tom warily scanned the werewolf. Just looking at the smug expression, he could see that Lupin knew the truth about Hermione. Tom's magic was raging inside him furiously as he wondered how to get out of this. There was no use for his polite façade anymore, so Tom pulled his wand and released the tight hold he had on his magic. Eagerly the dark force left his body, air rippling with its power. His actions made a feral glint flashing through Lupin's eyes.

"What do you want?" Tom demanded to know.

He was infuriated as even now the provocative grin did not slip from Lupin's face. As if amused by it all, the teacher let his freakish eyes wander over Tom's defensive stance. A smug look crept on the werewolf's face.

"I don't want anything."

Tom didn't believe him for a second. At least Lupin had by now released Hermione from his grip. Fighting for composure, Tom ordered his Mudblood sharply,

"Get over here, Hermione."

The girl instantly obeyed and scurried over to Tom. His lethal glare, though, was lost on her as she still didn't dare look up at him. She shuffled until she stood beside him, head still bowed. Angrily, Tom grabbed her and wrenched her closer. All the while, he never let Lupin out of his line of sight.

"You're here," Tom pointed out, dangerous tint to his controlled voice. ", instead of having called the Snatchers. So, I presume you want something in return for your silence."

Lupin really had the audacity to laugh loudly at that, showing his sharp teeth. "I wasn't lying. Why would I need anything from _you_?"

Tom balled his hands into fists as the condescension washed over him. Lupin remained to be completely unconcerned. Amusement mockingly glinted in his eyes as he jeered in his hoarse voice,

"I merely wanted to remind you not to leave your things lying about." Tom felt Hermione flinch under his grip as she heard it. Lupin still grinned and continued derisively, "Who knows who might wander by and just pick them up."

Tom pulled Hermione closer against him and spat, murderous threat oozing out of his words, "I can assure you, stealing from me would be ill-advised."

Lupin's strangely yellow eyes wandered over Tom who still held the shivering Mudblood. Abruptly, the scornful smirk fell from the werewolf's face, leaving it a stony mask.

"Now listen, boy," Lupin said, steely edge to his voice. "That you are allowing Hermione to go to school is an admirable thing. And I am grateful that you are doing this for her."

The werewolf took a threatening step towards Tom and growled, menace unmistakable in his deep voice, "But do not expect  _her_ to be grateful. You are giving her no more than she deserves."

"Hermione is none of your business," Tom hissed, tightening his possessive hold on the girl. "She belongs to me."

Lupin furiously bared his teeth and snarled, "Stupid boy!"

The werewolf stalked towards Tom, almost close enough to touch. As a response, Tom pushed Hermione behind him and raised his wand. A feral smile dangerously hung from Lupin's mouth.

"Protective of your pack, are you?" he rasped in his rough voice. "I can respect that."

Riddle didn't reply but kept his eyes locked with the werewolf's, his wand steady in his hand. Lupin barked out a laugh and backed away from Riddle, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. Only reluctantly Tom's wand sunk back to his side.

"Make no mistake there, boy," Lupin stated, the dangerous smile still on his lips. "Hermione is certainly not yours."

Tom's eyes narrowed to slits, his magic giving an angry budge. As he spoke his smooth voice was a sharp contrast to Lupin's coarse one, but there was just as much venom,

"The girl  _is_  mine. Whoever tries to take her from me will regret it dearly,  _Professor_."

Lupin's smile didn't drop in face of this provocation. It only gained a ferocious streak.

"Sooner or later, Riddle, there will come the time when Hermione can choose freely between staying or leaving." Lupin's yellow eyes burned with feral amusement as he added, "Then – and  _only_  then – will you know whether she truly belongs with you."

With that Lupin's attention left Tom completely. A boyish grin danced around his lips as he threw a look at Hermione who stared at him from behind Tom's back. Lupin bowed to her, tipping an imaginary hat.

"It was a pleasure to meet your true form, Miss Hermione." Hermione blushed as he then winked at her playfully. "If you need anything, you can always come to me. I'll help."

Although it was directed at Hermione, Tom could hear the veiled threat addressed to him. His magic twitched violently, wanting to reach out for the arrogant wolf. Lupin threw him a knowing smirk, then he turned and casually left the Heads' common room, a confident spring in his steps.

.

The werewolf left the room behind in deafening silence and Hermione dearly wished he had stayed. Trembling slightly, she still stood behind Tom who glared darkly at the door. As he finally whirled around to her, Hermione shrank away from him.

"I'm sorry," she hastily assured.

Tom didn't reply and Hermione worried her lower lip nervously. She didn't dare to look up at him.

"Hermione," Tom hissed, the expected anger twisted around his voice.

Hermione cowered and whispered shakily, "I'm sorry, Master."

He sneered as he heard her reply and scoffed caustically, "Oh please, save the honorific; we both know you despise me."

Hermione still didn't dare raise her face. She flinched violently as Tom grabbed her arm. None too gently, he wrenched her over to the sofa.

"Sit!"

Automatically Hermione obeyed and sank down on the soft couch. Meanwhile Tom angrily paced in front of her. His dark magic stormed around him, already painfully tugging at her Dark Mark. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as the tattoo on her arm burned with Tom's ire.

"How did this happen?" Tom finally demanded to know, his voice ruthlessly cutting into her.

"I- I forgot to refill my Poly- Polyjuice bottle," Hermione stuttered, nervously wringing her hands in her lap.

With one angry step Tom was upon her. He grabbed her chin, fingers painfully biting into Hermione's skin, and forced her face up.

"Look at me when I'm speaking with you."

Fear welled up in Hermione as she was forced to look into his frosty eyes and she repeated, voice no more than a shaky whisper,

"I- I'm sorry."

Abruptly his hand let go of her and Hermione fell back against the couch. Fearfully she peered up at a furious Tom. Her breath hitched as she saw his fingers tightening around his wand, intending to raise it at her.

"Please," Hermione pleaded, hot tears springing to her eyes. "I didn't mean to do it. Please. It was-"

She whimpered as pain erupted in her mark as if someone had cut it open. Hermione's hand shot to her left arm and she pressed it against her chest.

"I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses," Tom hissed so maliciously it made her cower.

Hunched on the couch and with tears burning in her eyes, Hermione looked up at Tom. He towered over her, magic raging around him, while he still clasped his wand threateningly. Hermione knew he was going to curse her. Terrified, she squeezed her eyes shut. For a long horrible moment, nothing happened. Then, instead of the expected curse, Tom commanded, voice lethally cold,

"Stay here."

Hermione's whole body shook, panic and fear constricting her chest. Through a blurry shroud of tears, she watched Tom disappearing in his room. He wasn't gone for longer than a minute, as he re-emerged, now carrying a small bottle. He held the bottle out for her to take, accompanied by a biting order,

"Drink."

Hermione immediately complied. The Polyjuice burned on her tongue and down her throat. The transformation followed instantly, sending shooting pains all over her body. Hermione tried to suppress any painful moans as her body changed back to 'Hermione Rookwood'. Tom didn't give her any time to catch her breath, but promptly interrogated her,

"Is Lupin going to tell anyone?"

Hermione blinked through the pain and replied in a wobbly voice, "No… He said he wouldn't."

"And why should I believe that?" Tom demanded to know.

Hermione timidly peered up at him. "He promised."

Tom snorted derisively. "You're painfully naïve, Hermione."

"He's… I think, Lupin's a Halfblood," she stammered helplessly. "He wouldn't hand me over to Umbridge."

Tom narrowed his frosty eyes at her, fury dancing in them. With an angry gesture, he pointed at the potions bottle.

"Take that. And then leave. I don't want to see you anymore."

Hermione hastily scrambled up from the sofa and felt shaky on her legs, as she scurried over to the door.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It took Tom a while to get his violent temper under control. The Heads' common room was in shambles, but by the next morning he was able to think straight again. As much as his Mudblood was to blame for having messed up, Tom had to concede he wasn't completely innocent either. He should have noticed that she needed more Polyjuice potion. In the end, it didn't matter who was at fault. Tom needed to stem the problem. For that purpose his Knights came in handy. Coldly, Tom studied the wizard walking beside him. Regulus Black looked tense.  _Whatever is he afraid of?_ Tom smirked darkly.

"I want you to go and dig up as much dirt as you can about him," Tom commanded briskly. "Especially about his parentage."

Black sycophantically bobbed his head. "It might take a while. Lupin's a werewolf. It's virtually impossible to access any of his personal data kept by the Corps. My cousin might be able to retrieve documents that predate his enlistment. I'll reach out to Cassiopeia."

"See that you do," Tom replied and imperiously waved Black away

Black's extensive connections came in handy now, Tom mused thoughtfully. If Hermione was right and Lupin was a Halfblood, Black would find evidence. The Corps might protect Lupin from any persecution by wizarding law, but if Tom made public he was a Halfblood, the werewolf would have to deal with nasty repercussions. At the very least he would no longer be able to enter the Wizarding World without the risk of getting arrested.

Tom was satisfied with this plan. It still irked him that Hermione had messed up, but he would be able to control the damage. Still pondering that plan, Tom walked to the History of Magic classroom. There he met the object of his contemplation. Hermione stood in front of the classroom, talking with Malfoy. Tom's eyes suspiciously wandered over the pair.

"-come and visit sometime," Malfoy's snobbish voice dripped with smarmy flattery. "Maybe after the exams. This summer? I assure you, Malfoy manor is a lot more comfortable than a stuffy London flat."

At the invitation a panicked look crossed Hermione's face and she pressed her back tightly against the wall as if trying to escape Malfoy. Tom's lips twisted into a sadistic smirk as he watched his Mudblood's predicament. Malfoy, oblivious to Hermione's horror, continued,

"You can stay as long as you want. I assure you, it's no problem."

As fun as it was to watch Hermione's panic grow, Tom chose to step in. He strolled over to them, satisfied to see Malfoy tense uncomfortably. Tom smirked at him and said, menace wrapped around his smooth voice,

"I hope you're not trying to seduce my girlfriend."

"N- no," Malfoy stammered anxiously. "We were just talking."

"Is that so?" Tom said lightly, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow at Malfoy.

His gaze then slid to the Mudblood. Hermione still stood pressed against the wall, head bent. In fact, she hadn't moved an inch since Tom stepped in. It was confusing. Usually, Hermione would seek close contact with Tom whenever Malfoy was around. Now, though, the girl didn't even look at him.

Tom couldn't longer ponder Hermione's behaviour as Carrow chose that moment to show up. Slowly the students filed into the classroom. Tom walked towards his table and noted how Hermione silently followed him, one step behind. Still mute, she waited until he was seated before she herself sat down. Tom frowned at her grovelling behaviour. In the middle of the classroom, though, he couldn't tell her off.

As always, Carrow's lecture was boring. Half an hour in the lecture, Tom dropped all pretence of taking notes. Instead, he peered at his Mudblood. Hermione sat beside him and diligently copied each of Carrow's words down. Her face was completely free of emotion and it left Tom feeling bereft – of what, though, he didn't know.

"-nd thus the charter of fundamental rights protects every person in our country," Carrow lectured self-importantly. "Does anyone know when it came into effect?"

Tom couldn't be bothered to raise his hand and watched disinterestedly how Finnigan tried to answer.

"Back in 1947?"

Carrow nodded, cold smile in place. "Right you are, Mr Finnigan. In course of the reshaping of our country after the war, Grindelwald and his council adopted the new constitution and as a part of it the charter of fundamental rights."

This class sure dragged on, didn't it? Tom decided languidly. Carrow was of another opinion and, eyes glinting disturbingly, continued with gusto,

"50 years later, we're still protected by Grindelwald's achievements. Now, how do you think the charter impacted on the Muggle population?"

Tom had no intention to answer that or any other questions during this class, so he lazily leaned back in his chair. Carrow, faux smile in place, looked expectantly at Hermione, who had for some bizarre reason become the professor's favourite.

"As you said, Professor," Hermione stated, her words sounding rehearsed and empty. "The charter addresses every  _person_  in this country. By that definition, Muggles and Mudbloods are excluded and are not protected by it."

"Wonderful," Carrow praised, obviously not minding Hermione's hollow tone. "Take five points to Gryffindor, Ms Rookwood."

As a response, Hermione smiled politely at the professor. Tom studied that smile hovering around her mouth. It was out of place. He was disturbed by its presence and in turn the complete absence of Hermione's angry magic in the air. Usually Carrow's lectures managed to incite a furious reaction of her magic. Now, though, Hermione just didn't seem to care.

At last, Carrow wrapped up the class and Tom was all too happy to finally leave. As he walked from the classroom, his Mudblood again followed him like a mute shadow. In the corridor Hermione stepped a bit closer to him and, head bent, asked in hollow voice,

"If you don't need me, might I join the other Gryffindors?"

Her tone of voice carried Tom right back to the time they had spent in Albania when he hadn't yet known Hermione that well. Tom furrowed his brow. The deference she displayed was clearly fake. Everything about Hermione from her tone and facial expression to her posture was lifeless, completely disconnected from any emotion.

"Yes, sure," Tom replied distractedly.

Hermione inclined her head in an ill-disguised bow and Tom hoped no-one was paying them any attention.

"Thank you, Tom," she said, sounding painfully apathetic.

Then she turned and walked away. Tom stood and watched her, gaze wandering over her slumped shoulders. Dolohov, who just left the History classroom, stopped beside Tom.

"No offence, Riddle," he said loftily. ", but your girlfriend looks like a zombie."

Tom threw him a death glare but the Slytherin just shrugged. "It's true."

Malfoy, who had joined them as well, stared after Hermione. He contemplatively pursed his lips. Tom had to restrain himself to not hex them all.

"She  _does_  seem a bit off today," Malfoy stupidly decided.

"Hmm..."

Now even Bellatrix' interest was drawn to the little Mudblood. Tom balled his hands into angry fists. Bellatrix' teeth flashed with a smirk as she observed Hermione like a hyena waiting to sink its fangs into the carcass. In faux concern, she crooned,

"Poor thing. I hope you're treating her right, Tom." He dark eyes danced with cruel mirth. "But I shouldn't worry; you're known to be such a  _considerate_  boyfriend."

Tom's lips were pressed into a thin line and he threw her a warning look. Bellatrix simply cocked a challenging eyebrow. As he didn't react, the Slytherin girl quickly lost interest in their staring match. Her lips curved into a wide smile and she suddenly proclaimed,

"You know what? I have a date tomorrow."

Tom didn't really care, but the change of subject was welcome. A smirk ghosted around his mouth and he asked quietly,

"Is that so?"

Bellatrix nodded enthusiastically, grabbed Tom's arm and pulled him away. In her other hand she twirled her wand.

"Indeed," Bellatrix cackled in sick amusement. "Herbert Fleet."

"Really? How'd you manage that?"

Bellatrix face twisted into an unsettling smirk. "I have my ways."

She carelessly scraped her wand along the corridor wall as they walked, leaving behind angrily sizzling scorch marks. Then the witch wondered contemplatively,

"I'm not quite sure yet what to  _do_  with him…" Her dark eyes came to rest on Tom. "Any suggestions?"

Tom only shrugged his shoulders in disinterest, making Bellatrix sulk, "You are no help."

Her pout quickly dropped from her face and she giggled maliciously, "I could drag him to Hogsmeade and on our way we could ' _get lost'_ in the Forbidden Forest." Bellatrix brandished her wand excitedly, the tip smoking forebodingly. "And  _BAM_  no witnesses."

Tom hummed in agreement and commented lightly, "You'll have to wait until you pass the old milestone. Then you know you've left Hogwarts' grounds. Otherwise the wards might react to any dark spells."

A wide smile revealed Bellatrix white teeth. The hand still holding Tom's arm tightened and she pulled him closer to her. Standing on tip-toes, the witch placed a kiss on his cheek.

"You're a genius, Riddle," Bellatrix chirped, sinister delight crossing her face.

†

For the rest of the day, Tom didn't see Hermione at all. She even missed dinner and he wondered if she again tried to avoid him. There was no reason for her to do so, as Tom's violent temper had long since calmed down. He didn't seek her out, though. Since that Cruciatus he had thrown at her, she had slipped back into her Mudblood mode and Lupin's interference had made things even worse. It was a problem, because her behaviour already attracted unwanted attention. Tom wasn't sure how to solve it. Threatening her or cursing her would make things even worse.

The next day, a Saturday, wasn't any better. Hermione still avoided him and hadn't shown up for breakfast. Tom wasn't willing to take her elusive behaviour anymore. After searching the castle, he found Hermione with a bunch of Gryffindors outside by the Quidditch pitch. It was rather cold and the popped collar of his cloak was a poor protection against the wind and the drizzle falling from the grey sky. Tom sniffed in irritation as he watched the Gryffindors on the Quidditch pitch. They were flying around on their brooms, endowed with their sports gear, but it was quite obvious that the trainings session had ended some time ago. Laughing and screeching loudly, the so-called Quidditch players were invested in a game of tag. At least, Hermione had refrained from riding a broom. Instead she stood on the lawn and, smile in place, watched the others racing through the air. Tom scowled in displeasure as he saw the players now and then descending and playfully tugging at Hermione's cloak.

"Hermione," he called her, walking towards her on the wet grass.

Her shoulders stiffened as the girl heard him and Tom noted that the smile was instantly wiped from her face.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice sharper than intended.

He almost growled in frustration as the now well-known blank expression slipped on Hermione's face.

"I'm sorry," the girl replied apathetically and Tom realized he had come to hate that statement. ", did you need me?"

He breathed in deeply, trying to fight against his upcoming frustration. His eyes left Hermione and wandered to the other Gryffindors. They had continued their stupid game, their faces red from laughter and excitement. How childish. He threw Hermione a stern glare. Why was she participating in such a waste of time? Tom swallowed a sharp reprove and instead asked,

"Did you already finish your Charms essay?"

"Yes, Mas- Tom."

Tom ran a hand through his hair while he scanned her. The last conversation with Bellatrix came back to him.

"Then you are free now?"

"Yes, Tom," was her colourless response.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade?" Tom inquired curtly.

Finally the girl looked up at him, deep confused frown on her face, and she asked in a flat voice, "I thought you didn't like to go."

He sighed irritably. "I changed my mind. Do you want to come or not?"

Hermione inclined her head. "Of course."

Tom felt vexed by her distanced reply. If she insisted on being difficult, he might just pull her into the Forbidden Forest just like Bellatrix had planned for her conquest. Silently, they left Hogwarts' grounds and walked the path towards Hogsmeade. Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at his tongue-tied Mudblood. As she noticed his attention had fallen on her, Hermione looked up. For a moment she just blinked at him. Then something like comprehension crossed her face.

"I can carry that," she suggested duteously.

It took Tom a second to realize she meant his black messenger back. Barely, he managed to suppress a frustrated groan. Yes, that would make him look really good when he let his so-called girlfriend carry his stuff. Tom threw Hermione a warning glare which made the girl avert her eyes to the ground. His frustration instantly rose a few notches.

"At least  _try_  to act normal," he hissed at her under his breath.

Immediately, Hermione nodded at him, mumbling a soft apology. Tom sighed deeply; Hermione's act of the servile Mudblood was grating on his nerves.

"You remember Beltain is coming up in a few weeks?" Tom asked her in a tightly controlled voice. "Hogwarts is arranging a little ball."

Expectantly, he glanced at the girl. He was to be disappointed, though. Hermione only nodded numbly, obviously not caring about any balls or festivities. They finally reached Hogsmeade, the village's streets crowded with other students.

"I thought we could buy you something you might wear for the ball," Tom informed the Mudblood, forcing a smile on his face.

Once again, Hermione didn't seem to care one way or the other and just nodded her consent. He started to doubt his idea of coming to Hogsmeade, but it was too late to go back now. A few more steps down the street and Tom entered one of the shops. It was crammed with clothes upon clothes, but at least it was warm. With pursed lips Tom scanned the area. He spotted a section with cloaks in every imaginable colour. Right beside that was a shelf with wizards' hats. They ranged from simple black pointy ones to rather flashy stovepipe hats.

Tom ignored the shelf full of lemon yellow wizards' robes and walked over to a clothes rail displaying dresses in all colours. Hermione still shadowed him mutely. She stood beside him obediently as he started to sort through the dresses. He pulled one off the rail. It was an ankle-length green silk dress which fell in smooth waves to the floor.

"How about this?" Tom asked her.

Hermione barely glanced at the beautiful dress before she nodded duteously. "It's nice."

Tom arched an eyebrow as he heard her apathetic reply. His eyes left Hermione's face shortly and wandered to a pair of Ravenclaws nearby. The two girls giggled happily as they sorted through the dresses, now and then pulling one out and admiring or discarding it. Tom's gaze left the cheerful girls and he looked back down at Hermione. She stood before him with her eyes downcast, her face completely shut down. A sigh tore from his lips and he put the green dress back on the clothes rail.

"Why don't you try to find something  _you_  like?"

"Yes, Tom."

.

Hermione cautiously watched Tom. The Slytherin hesitated shortly, as if he wanted to add something, but then he just left her alone and strolled over to a sofa, positioned near the changing rooms. Hermione relaxed a bit now that Tom wasn't paying her so close attention anymore. She looked at the clothes. Barely daring to touch them, she browsed through the dresses. They were all beautiful. Hermione had never dreamed to touch clothes like this. She came upon a dress made of floaty, periwinkle-blue material. A smile on her face, she examined the dress. She liked it. But then she checked the price tag.  _Twenty-five Galleons?_ Reluctantly, Hermione put the blue dress back on the rail. It was too flashy for her anyway.

It didn't really take long for her to find something for the ball. It was a simple black dress with thin spaghetti straps. It wasn't that fancy but, most important, it only cost six Galleons. Cautiously holding the dress, Hermione walked over to Tom. He still sat on the sofa and stared into space. His deep blue eyes focused on her as she stood in front of him.

"Did you find something?"

"Yes, Tom," Hermione whispered while handing him the black dress.

Tom accepted it. His fingers ran over the black satin. As he checked the price tag he raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you want this one?"

Hermione nodded her head. Tom's gaze wandered from her to the dress. He scanned it as if doubting it was a good choice. In the end, though, he didn't comment, but went to pay. While Hermione waited for him, she wondered why he had brought her to Hogsmeade. Surely he had more important things to do than spent time with her. Then again, maybe he hadn't wanted to entrust her with the money to buy the dress herself.

Shortly later, they left Gladrags Wizardwear, Tom carrying the bag with Hermione's dress. She was pretty sure that now they would return to Hogwarts. Tom, though, walked further into Hogsmeade. Confusedly, Hermione followed. Maybe there was something else he had to take care of.

"Do you want to go to Honeydukes?" Tom abruptly asked.

Hermione looked up at him, carefully keeping the suspicion from showing on her face. She didn't understand his question. Tom arched an eyebrow and Hermione felt compelled to just nod. There was a hint of a smile playing around Tom's mouth. It only served to confuse her even further. Giving no explanation, he led the way to the shop and Hermione followed him mechanically. Like last time she had visited the shop, Honeydukes was packed with students and Hermione felt a bit lost.

"What do you want to try?" Tom asked her, in a suspiciously kind tone.

"I don't need anything," Hermione replied automatically, injecting the expected servile tint into her voice.

She fidgeted uncomfortably under Tom's heavy gaze. There was a strange, almost disappointed, sheen in his blue eyes.

"No-one  _needs_  sweets," he stated. "Wait here, I'm going to get you something."

Hermione's befuddlement only grew as she watched Tom disappearing into the crowd. Not five minutes later he reappeared, now with one of Honeydukes paper bags in hand.

"Come on," Tom said, gently pushing Hermione out of the shop.

As they stepped back outside, he offered her something that resembled a normal quill. At her puzzlement, Tom smirked and explained,

"It's a Sugar Quill. Just try it."

Hermione warily accepted the sweet. Tentatively, she nibbled at the quill. Sweet, with the taste of cherry.

"Thank you," Hermione mumbled politely and followed Tom further down High Street.

As they meandered through the village, Hermione spotted Regulus through the window of the post office. Smiling softly, she waved at him. Regulus threw an anxious look at Tom, but in the end returned her greeting. The exchange provoked a sharp frown to take shape on Tom's face.

"Why do you spend time with Black?" he inquired venomously.

Keeping all emotion from her face, Hermione replied, "Regulus is nice. I like him."

Immediately, Tom's expression clouded with disgust and he sneered, "You don't need friends, Hermione."

She peered up at him, still holding her sugar quill in hand. Then she asked tentatively, "Why do you say that?"

"Be reasonable," Tom said acridly. "Friends are useless at best. At the worst, they keep you from accomplishing your goals."

He was again using that icy cold voice. It always made fearful chills darting down Hermione's spine. Not wanting to anger him more, she just nodded. Tom promptly narrowed his eyes.

"You don't really agree with me, do you?" he accused.

Hermione's face shot up at him and she assured quickly, "No, I do agree. Really."

"Lying to me does not work," Tom told her darkly. "You should know that by now."

Hermione ducked her head and gave him what he wanted to hear, "I'm sorry, Tom."

Strangely enough, Tom's face softened as he heard her feeble reply and he averted his gaze, blinking up at the grey sky.

"You're wrong," he said, steely edge in his voice. "Friends… Especially,  _family_ … In the end, it is a waste of time."

For a moment, Hermione didn't say anything, jaded eyes wandering over the shops and Hogsmeade's small houses with the pointed gables.

"All this time in Malfoy manor," she finally whispered, never looking up at Tom. "All this time in the magical world, really… I never had much. No future, no hope that anything will ever get better. Nothing to keep me going…"

Her voice fizzled out and she vacantly stared in front of her. Tom didn't say anything, though Hermione could feel his heavy gaze on her.

"Nothing," she repeated, her thoughts far off. "But then, sometimes I remember my life – as it was before. I remember my family. My parents. Their faces faded away. I regret that."

Subconsciously Hermione raised her head and peered up at Riddle. She found him watching her intently. Once again his emotions were hidden away behind a mask of stone. Hermione didn't know what he was thinking; if he even listened.

"But what I will never forget is what they meant to me," she said softly. "I love them. Still. And I can remember how they loved me. To them I was something important. Something very dear."

Her eyes dropped down to the sugar quill in her hand but she didn't really see the candy. Then she continued, her voice strangely steady when all those feelings were rushing through her,

"They died. And I was suddenly… trash." A mirthless smile twisted Hermione's lips. "A servant, worthless…"

Her hand balled into a fist around the candy, crashing it. Hermione didn't even notice but continued her story,

"I ended up with nothing. Nothing but my memories. If I didn't have them… if I didn't know that once, to my parents, I was not worthless, but so much more…"

Hermione breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. For a moment she just stared at the other students hopping from this shop to that, laughing freely. Then she again raised her eyes up to meet Riddle's blue ones.

"No," she told him calmly. "I don't think that family and friends are useless."

Tom's blue eyes rested on her but he did not reply. They kept walking for a while, no-one saying anything. Then Riddle offered her another Sugar Quill and asked, strangely hesitant,

"Would you like to go to the bookshop?"

Hermione glanced at him. His face was frustratingly unreadable as always. She accepted the sweet from him and answered as it was expected of her,

"If you want to go, Tom."

"No," he said instantly. "This is about what you want to do."

In the end, they did go to the book shop. Rather quickly, Hermione was pulled into the world of the written word. Small smile in place, she flipped through a Herbology book about submerged plants.

"Hermione?" a deep voice interrupted her.

"Yes?" she looked up from her book, smile still on her face.

Tom scanned her for a moment. Then he said stiltedly, "I don't think you are worthless."

Her eyes widened. Where had that come from?

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was confusing.  _Tom_  was confusing. His expectations were incomprehensible and his behaviour unpredictable. What did he want from her? He didn't want her to call him 'Master' or bow to him, but he demanded utter obedience …except on occasions when he suddenly didn't want her to be the submissive servant. He was scary, one icy look making Hermione cower in fear, but then he also was protective of her. Sometimes he was affectionate on a level Hermione hadn't experienced since she entered the Magical World. But how much was his affection worth when the next second it could turn to wrath?

Hermione didn't know what to do. Trying to slip into her old role as Penny the slave girl had proven to be impossible. Suddenly attending Hogwarts, her Promised Land, made Hermione feel painfully alone and excluded. Maybe it was that loneliness that drove Hermione to walk to the DADA club more than fifteen minutes early.

Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest as Hermione carefully opened the door to the trainings hall. A small smile appeared on her face as she spotted Lupin. The werewolf stood by the trainings dummies, casting shielding spells over them. As he heard the door click open, he raised his head and a broad smile split his face.

"Rookwood," Lupin said. "You are early."

Hermione nodded shyly. "Yes. I'm sorry, Captain. I can wait outside."

"No need," replied the werewolf good-naturedly. "You can actually help me set up the dummies."

Hermione quickly stepped further into the duelling room and said obediently, "Of course, sir."

Lupin frowned as he heard the submissive streak in her voice. "Seriously, Hermione, you don't  _have_  to help me. Completely your decision."

Hermione hesitated and considered the professor for a moment. He was still bent over the training dummy, waving his wand over it.

"I would really like to help," she said softly and walked over to him.

Lupin threw her a smile and gestured at another dummy.

"You can go and cast the Velum shield," he suggested lightly. "Let's see if your classmates can break it."

Hermione smiled at him and nodded. Swiftly, she pulled her wand and flourished it, folding the shield around the dummy. The wooden frame was shortly engulfed in a golden shine as the shield took form.

"Not bad," commented Lupin, making Hermione blush.

Mumbling a 'Thank you', she proceeded to the next dummy. She had managed to wrap another two dummies in the shield as the werewolf spoke again.

"So, Hermione," the man said, glancing at her. "How's Hogwarts treated you so far?"

"Very good, Captain," Hermione responded, smiling at him. "I really like it here."

"And your Master?" Lupin prodded carefully.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in question. "Sir?"

"How does Riddle treat you?"

The smile fell from Hermione's face and her hand involuntarily tightened around her wand. She averted her eyes from Lupin and replied meekly,

"He treats me better than my former Masters."

Lupin hummed softly and let his yellow eyes wander over Hermione. He didn't comment on her timid behaviour but continued to cast the shield over a trainings dummy. Hermione copied him and worked on another dummy.

"Who were your former Masters?" Lupin eventually asked.

Hermione glanced at him. "I worked for the Malfoys."

The werewolf looked as if he had bitten into a lemon and put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"That must have been awful."

Hermione giggled softly, before she continued conversationally, "It wasn't that bad. There were a lot of other Mudbloods. We helped each other. So, most of the time, I wasn't caught when doing something wrong and didn't get punished too often."

Strangely enough Lupin winced slightly as she said it. Hermione furrowed her brow. The teacher ignored it but asked instead,

"How would you get punished?"

"Oh, it wasn't too bad," replied Hermione lightly. "It was rarely worse than a beating."

She could see a flitter of anger rushing through the werewolf's yellow eyes as she told him. Thinking she had angered Lupin, Hermione took a small step back from him. As he noticed it, he sent her an encouraging smile before he asked gingerly,

"What about Riddle? Does he punish you often?"

Hermione stared down at the floor and said in a small voice, "No. Not often."

"But sometimes he does?"

Without looking at Lupin, she nodded in reply. Then Hermione hastily continued to cast the Velum shield on her next trainings dummy. The werewolf didn't say any more. In silence they worked on the remaining dummies.

"If you want Riddle to treat you differently," Lupin eventually said. ", you have to stop behaving like his servant."

Hermione cautiously glanced at him and said, "I don't think he'll like that."

"Probably not." Lupin shrugged dismissively. "But otherwise, he will certainly not change his behaviour towards you."

"I… I don't know…" Hermione mumbled hesitantly.

Lupin sighed before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Are you scared he's going to hurt you?"

Hermione didn't look up at the werewolf but nodded. Surprisingly he chuckled.

"In that case, you just need to curse him. I've seen you fight. You're impressive."

Hermione's head snapped up at him and she spluttered, "I can't curse my Master."

Lupin grinned toothily. He bent down to her and whispered mischievously into her ear, "The rules have changed, Hermione."

"What do you mean?"

"Your so-called Master has dragged you into Hogwarts, enrolled you as a student and – if I'm not completely mistaken – is quite smitten with you."

Hermione blushed deeply as she heard that last part. It only managed to widen the teasing grin on Lupin's face.

"I think your relationship with Riddle has long since stopped being that of a Master and his slave."

Hermione threw an insecure look at Lupin. "What are you suggesting here?"

The werewolf barked out a laugh as he heard her shaky question. "Guys like Riddle love to be in command. They like to think that the whole world revolves around them."

Lupin stepped away from Hermione and turned to another trainings dummy while he continued talking, amusement thick in his voice,

"Immature, is what they are." He winked at Hermione. "And Riddle's one of the worst. He's not going to willingly give up his power."

A wave of Lupin's wand and the dummy glowed golden for a second. With that the werewolf turned to the next dummy but not before throwing Hermione and encouraging smile.

"Unfortunately," Lupin continued in his kind voice. ", our Mr Riddle has a lot of power over you."

Hermione stared down at the tips of her shoes, feeling awkward. Lupin's next words, though, made her look up at him in shock,

"You've got to take that power from him."

"But… but, Captain," stuttered Hermione. "I can't- can't do anything against my Master's wish. I'm not al-"

"You can, Hermione," Lupin's voice cut over her with confidence. "And I'm pretty sure you'll be successful, too. Riddle's probably waiting for it."

Hermione stared at her professor in disbelief. He merely leaned against the trainings dummy and grinned broadly. She furrowed her brow.

"No. It's not possible. Tom wouldn't ac-" She stopped and corrected herself, " _Master_  wouldn't accept it."

Lupin casually shrugged his shoulders. Studying his nails in mock-indifference, he said lightly, "Well, then. I guess, you'll just have to remain being his little servant girl forever."

Hermione's eyes narrowed angrily and a scowl formed on her face. Lupin peered at her through the corners of his eyes, a feral grin hovering around his lips.

"Your choice."

Hermione sighed loudly as she saw the teasing smile on his face. She tiredly rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"So…" Lupin said, yellow eyes flashing at her mischievously. "What are you doing tonight?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked up at her professor. "I… Nothing special. It  _is_  a Thursday."

"Good good." The werewolf waved a dismissive hand at her. "Then you are free?"

"Free for what?" asked Hermione, suspicion now thick in her voice.

Lupin chuckled softly before he innocently supplied, "How about you accompany me back to the barracks? Hm? "

Hermione eyed him with pursed lips. Lupin simply chuckled under her scrutiny. "You look like you could use a break. Get away from everything. That sort of thing. You can meet all my werewolf-colleagues." He chuckled again. "There's lots to drink and food. Trust me, you'll have fun."

Hermione was tempted by the prospect of a short reprieve. Still she recited the rules, "Students are not allowed to leave the castle."

Lupin grinned at her and shrugged. "I'm a teacher. Can't say I read the rule book, but I'm pretty sure it's fine for you to leave when in company of a professor."

Hermione peered at him. It actually sounded quite nice and she would love to learn more about werewolves. Seeing her slowly caving in, Lupin added,

"No-one's going to notice you're gone. I won't tell Riddle if you don't."

"Hm." Hermione wavered. "It's… it's not going to be dangerous?"

Lupin actually laughed as he heard that. Mirth still danced in his yellow eyes as he finally calmed down.

"Merlin,  _dangerous_?" He smiled, showing sharp teeth. "I'd be disappointed if it  _wouldn't_  be."

That was not in the least bit reassuring. Hermione frowned at the man. Then again, what did she have to lose?

"Okay. I'll come."

"Perfect." Lupin grinned, not having expected any other reply.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **You gave me words of hope, are they not long delayed?**

**The plum-tree is remembered by the Spring,**

**Though it seemed dead with frost.'**

**\- Sugawara Takesue no Musume**

**(*1009** **† 1070)**


	22. Pray Not

“You’re going _where_?!”

Ginny gaped at Hermione, eyes wide as saucers. Quickly Hermione put a hand over the red-head’s mouth.

“Sh,” she tried to calm the other. “No-one’s supposed to know.”

Ginny stared at her in utter wonder as she sat cross-legged on Hermione’s bed in the Gryffindor dorm. At least she lowered her voice a bit as she said,

“Lupin’s taking you into _werewolf_ territory? That’s… That is incredible, that is!” Ginny giggled excitedly. “Wow. I’m so jealous. I wish _I_ could go, man. The Corps doesn’t allow anyone on its premises.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Is it really such a big thing?”

Ginny nodded enthusiastically, big grin splitting her face. “You can bet your skinny ass it is. They don’t tolerate any witches or wizards on their territory …well, aside from the recruits. But then again, they’re already almost werewolves.”

Hermione pondered that for a moment. She didn’t know much about the Corps or werewolves in general. That magical folks were not allowed on their land was new to her. Then again, she was no witch and Lupin knew that now. Maybe that was why he had invited her.

“When are you leaving?” Ginny inquired, incredibly excited by the whole thing.

“Well, Lupin said he’s got to take care of something, but that we’ll meet in half an hour down in the Entrance Hall.”

The red-head jumped up from the bed. “That soon?!”

“Yeah. I just wanted to get my cloak.”

Ginny jumped up and down in an excess of enthusiasm. “When’re you coming back?”

“I don’t really know,” Hermione informed as she pulled her cloak out of her trunk. “I mean, I have to be back tomorrow. There are classes, after all.”

Ginny promptly rolled her eyes and groaned, “It’s werewolves, Hermione. For Merlin’s sake! Forget the stupid classes.”

Instantly, Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend and opened her mouth to lecture Ginny about the importance of school.

“Can it,” Ginny beat her to it, waving Hermione’s outrage away. “At least promise me, you’re gonna tell me everything as soon as you’re back, yes?”

Hermione smiled at her friend. “I can do that.”  
  
“Ha!” The red-head grinned contently. “I knew you were Lupin’s favourite. It’s because you’re a know-it-all.”

A blush coloured Hermione’s cheeks as she slipped into her cloak. Ginny just laughed at her.

“What’s your significant other saying to the whole thing?” she asked teasingly. “I bet he’s all jealous and shit. Serves him right.”

Hermione quickly shook her head, panic lacing her voice as she replied, “No. Tom doesn’t know. He… I didn’t tell him.”

Instead of questioning that decision, the grin on Ginny’s face grew sharper. Then she commented airily, “None of his business anyway.”

She stepped over to Hermione and shoved her towards the door. “Quick. You don’t wanna leave the werewolf waiting.”

“Okay, okay,” Hermione laughed and left the dorm. “See you tomorrow.”

“Stay as long as you want,” was Ginny’s last advice.

 

†

 

“Last chance to turn tail,” Lupin said, grinning at her.

Hermione smiled up at the man. “I said I’d come, didn’t I?”

“Okay then.”

Lupin grabbed her arm and Hermione threw a last look at Hogwarts’ castle as it proudly stood a distance away amidst Scotland’s rough landscape. Then Lupin’s fingers tightened and she was pulled into apparition. The next time Hermione opened her eyes, the castle had completely disappeared. Instead, they now stood on a clearing. It was surrounded by large oak trees, throwing long shadows with the setting sun. Hermione breathed in the humid heavy air and let her gaze wander over the deep forest.

“Where are we?”

“Galloway.” Lupin hesitated shortly, before he added mischievously, “I probably shouldn’t have told you. Best you don’t mention it.”

Then he took off, wandering into the dark forest. Hermione quickly followed the werewolf. Deeper and deeper Lupin strode into the forest, Hermione stumbling behind him. There was neither a path nor any way to orient oneself and still the werewolf’s gait was sure. His steps were confident and almost noiseless while Hermione ever so often tripped on a root or stepped on a twig, a loud snapping sound cutting through the silence.

“We’re almost there. Just a bit further,” Lupin informed cheerfully.

Hermione had to just believe him there, because she could see no difference in her surroundings. True to his word, though, just a few minutes later, Lupin stopped. Hermione stepped closer to him and blinked at the thick trees.

“I can’t see a thing,” she told him honestly.

“Here, take that,” Lupin said smilingly and gave Hermione a chain with a tiny glass tube dangling from it.

“What’s that?”

“The area around the barracks is warded,” Lupin explained. “No-one but werewolves are allowed to enter.”

Hermione pursed her lips as she examined the glass tube. A red liquid was lazily swashing around inside. Raising her eyebrows at the werewolf, she assessed,

“Blood wards?”

“Yep.” Lupin took the chain with the small tube and put it around Hermione’s neck. “It’s werewolf blood. It’s something like a temporary pass, so don’t lose it.”

Hermione nodded and cautiously pushed the chain and its pendant into her shirt.

“Okay. Let’s find out if that thing really works,” Lupin proclaimed teasingly.

Before Hermione could protest, the werewolf shoved her forwards. She gasped as suddenly icy water surrounded her. Another step forward and the invisible liquid released her again. Panting softly, Hermione looked around. Seemingly out of no-where, a bonfire had appeared just a few steps away, flames crackling merrily. A man stood by the fire. He was clothed in the same black uniform as Lupin. Though instead of the three golden stripes at the collar of Lupin’s cloak, Hermione spotted one single green chevron on the man’s collar. He watched Hermione interestedly, but stood at attention as Lupin stepped over to him.

“Good evening, sir,” the man greeted Lupin respectfully.

“Evening, lance corporal,” Lupin said. “Everything quite?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hermione shifted closer to Lupin and eyed the other man carefully. She flinched slightly as his eyes flicked to her.

“Good evening, Miss Hermione,” the man greeted in the same respectful tone. “I hope you had a pleasant journey?”

“Y- yes,” she stuttered timidly. “Thank you.”

Quietly, Hermione mumbled a good-bye to the man as Lupin led her away on a small trail.

“There are five entry points through the wards like the one we just passed,” the werewolf explained. “They are all guarded 24/7.”

“What kind of warding spells were used?” Hermione inquired curiously.

“Always the student, hm?” Lupin chuckled. “That’s classified information, though.”

Soon the trail grew wider and a few minutes later they finally left the forest and stepped on a stretch of open terrain. The ground was trodden in but otherwise unsurfaced. Several plain one-storey barracks stood in two symmetrical rows on the area, leading to a larger building in the centre. Hermione spied a flagpole in front of the central building. In the dying rays of the sun, she could recognise the emblem of the Corps, a black stylized wolf howling to a yellow moon.

Lupin walked towards the main building and Hermione followed him, turning her head this way and that in her curiosity. She spotted several more men and women in uniform, going about their business. One of them stepped over to Lupin.

“Back so soon?” the black-haired woman asked Lupin teasingly. “Missed us, didn’t you?”

Lupin grinned at her. “Always. You know that, Andy.”

The woman’s piercing eyes raked over Hermione, but she didn’t comment on the Gryffindor’s presence.

“How’d your trip to Sofia go?” Lupin asked and Hermione was relieved as the woman’s fierce attention left her.

“Was alright.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Before it all went fubar. No thanks to Farley.”

Lupin laughed loudly, painting a scowl on the other’s face. It was rather intimidating, but Lupin seemed to be immune. Still grinning widely, he asked,

“Where’s the Colonel?”

“In the mess, I think,” the woman said casually.

“You not coming?”

“Nah,” she replied loftily. “Got shit to do.”

She threw another suspicious glance at Hermione before she left. Lupin continued his way over to the main building. Nervously, Hermione followed him through the entrance door and into a bare corridor flanked by a few doors. At the end of the corridor, they reached a larger double door. Lupin entered and explained,

“This is the rec room. If you’re not on a mission or training, this is the place to be.”

Hermione nodded at him, but felt a bit jittery as she followed him into the rather large room. The first thing she saw were two men wrestling fiercely against each other. Snarling loudly, they fought violently as a throng of onlookers around them whooped and cheered them on. Everybody else in the room casually ignored the ongoing scuffle as if it was an everyday occurrence. Men and women sat at large tables and chatted animatedly, glasses in their hands. From a radio somewhere, music blared over the noise and bursts of laughter. Although no-one had yet greeted them, Hermione felt many eyes on her. Feeling rather intimidated by the werewolves’ looks, she stepped closer to Lupin.

“Lupin.” A harsh voice made Hermione jump.

A man was walking towards them. He was tall, taller than Lupin even, and bulky. Straggly grey hair fell down his back, ending an inch below his shoulders. Blue eyes glinted dangerously from his vicious-looking face and seemed to glow with an inhuman light as they hungrily raked over Hermione’s form. Subconsciously, she shied away from him as she saw his pointed teeth and claw-like yellowish nails. 

Lupin tensed, but greeted the other man respectfully, “Good evening, sir.”

The man’s terrifying gaze wandered from Lupin to Hermione. “And you must be our little guest for the evening,” the man growled, dangerous tint to his sharp voice. “What’s your name?”

“H- Hermione Rookwood, sir,” Hermione stammered timidly.

The man offered his hand and she diffidently raised her own to shake it, wary of his razor sharp claws. Hermione suppressed a groan of pain as the man’s fingers tightly closed around hers.

“Colonel Greyback,” he introduced brusquely.

He released Hermione’s now smarting hand and eyed her with a dismissive look on his face, not in the least bit impressed by her. He sniffed derisively, before he turned to Lupin and ordered, “I need you to sort out the mission reports of your 2nd platoon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in panic as Lupin turned around, obviously intending to leave. He smiled at her soothingly.

“You stay here, Hermione. I’ll be back soon.”

Hermione could only nod fearfully, not at all reassured by the concerned look Lupin threw her before he left.

“Now, Hermione.” She startled as a deep voice ominously whispered into her ear. “Why don’t ya come and join me.”

With wide fearful eyes, Hermione looked up at Greyback. The werewolf didn’t even wait for her reply. Roughly, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to one of the tables. Greyback sat down and grinned at her viciously.

“Sit,” he ordered sharply.

Quickly, Hermione obeyed, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. The other werewolves so far completely ignored her, merely throwing her cold looks, while Greyback positively leered at her. Meekly, Hermione avoided his eyes and lowered her head.

“So, you’re Lupin’s little witch, hm?” the pack leader observed, nasty tint to his voice.

Hermione shortly peered up at him. A vile smirk twisted Greyback’s lips as he scanned her hungrily. Jerkily, she managed to nod her head, before she bent it again. Greyback ignored her obvious discomfort and slid closer to her on the bench. Hermione flinched as he suddenly wrapped a greedy arm around her waist.  

“You’re a pretty lil’ flower,” the werewolf purred into her ear, almost nestling his face against her neck. “If I’d known, I woulda invited you sooner.”

Hermione tried to twist away from his unwanted hands, but to no avail. Greyback laughed maliciously and mocked,

“Hm, feisty, aren’t ya?”

Hermione tensed as she felt his greedy fingers rubbing over her side. Desperately, she tried to pull away, but couldn’t get away from the brawny man.

“Get off me!” she snapped, anger mixing into her fear.

“Oh, but why?” Greyback flirted, smirk stretching his lips. “Ya just my type.”

“Maybe.” Hermione glared at him irately. “But you’re not mine.”

“Wu’s that?” said Greyback, seemingly amused by Hermione’s attempts to get away. “I’m ev’rybody’s type.”

The werewolf leaned down and placed a wet kiss on Hermione’s cheek and she shuddered in disgust. Furiously, she pushed against Greyback’s heavy bulk, without much success. Hermione’s rage flared to new proportions, infecting her magic.

“I think I’m gonna keep ya,” Greyback whispered disturbingly.

He continued to lay kisses over her cheek and Hermione didn’t want to put up with this anymore. Her magic raged inside of her and she simply let it snap. Eagerly, the riled force burst from her body. It crashed into Greyback, forcing the werewolf away from Hermione. Her magic left behind deep smoking scratches in the wooden table and bench. Now free, Hermione sprang up from her seat, pulled her wand and threateningly pointed it at the recovering pack leader.

“You keep your sticky paws to yourself,” Hermione hissed at Greyback, her lost temper bending her tone into a threat. “Or I swear you’ll regret it.”

Shoulders set with determination, she pointed her wand at Greyback. In an angry cloud, her magic still stormed around her. A dangerous look slid on Greyback’s face as his gaze wandered over Hermione’s form and the wand in her hand. There was a bleeding scratch on his cheek and the easy smirk had dropped from his mouth. Hermione’s breathing was fast now, body tense and ready to attack. A curse teetered at the tip of her wand as suddenly, unexpectedly, Greyback threw back his head and barked out a gruff laugh. There were tears of laughter glinting in his eyes as he again looked at Hermione.

Still laughing, he this time requested and not ordered, “Sit down.”

Warily, Hermione watched him gesturing at the spot on the bench across from him. Wand still in hand, she didn’t move an inch. Greyback wiped at his eyes, a wide grin still curling his mouth.

“Come on,” he repeated, strangely jovial. “Not gonna eat ya. I promise.”

Hermione suddenly became very aware of all the looks thrown her way. The whole room had grown deathly quiet, the other werewolves watching their leader silently. Hermione reluctantly let her wand sink. It wasn’t like she could defend herself against this many werewolves. Hesitantly, she sat down across from Greyback. Ignoring her stiff posture, he reached for a bottle and poured two shot glasses. He slid one over to Hermione and grabbed the other one himself. Completely confused, she accepted the shot glass. Greyback raised his glass to Hermione and grinned as he proclaimed loudly,

“To our wolf in the sheep’s clothing.”

She startled as the other werewolves followed his lead and raised their glasses. Winking at her, Greyback downed the glass, the others happily following suit. Being hit by many expectant looks, Hermione drank as well. And suddenly, the loud laughter and chatter was back in the room, merry music droning from the old radio. In bewilderment Hermione scanned Greyback suspiciously. Her magic still swirled around her agitatedly. Seemingly not having a worry in his life, Greyback leaned back in his seat. There was a content smile on his face as he peered at Hermione.

“You know, I _did_ wonder why Lupin brought ya here,” he stated, mischievous tint in his voice. “Now, I know.”

Hermione creased her brow in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Greyback flashed his slightly yellow, though razor-sharp, teeth at her, and explained, “Bastard dragged a child from that fancy school of his into the wolf den. Thought he’s finally lost it.”

He lazily refilled his glass and again downed it in one go. “But ya alright, Rookwood.” At Hermione’s befuddled look the pack leader added, “Got some nasty fangs and claws on ya.”

“Eh…” Hermione stared at the werewolf. “Thanks?”

Greyback laughed at her. “Ya didn’t think I _really_ was coming on to ya, did ya?”

Hermione’s silence was answer enough and it made Greyback snicker in amusement. Then he laid one large hand on her shoulder and said sombrely, mirth shining through the grave look on his face,

“Rookwood, I know it’s hard, but ya have to get over me. We were never meant ta be. I’m married anyway.”

Hermione stared at him indignantly, which sent him into another snort of laughter.

“Okay, okay,” said Greyback. “Calm ya tits and don’t curse me.”

Now Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed but also amused by his antics.

“You know.” Greyback observed her contemplatively. “Ya much too stressed. Here, have some more.”

Cheerful smile in place, he poured her another drink. Hermione stared at the werewolf then at the glass in her hand. After a moment, she just shrugged and downed it, Greyback’s laughter following the gesture.

 

†

 

Hermione hadn’t dared to hope it after the initial frosty welcome, but her evening turned out to be quite entertaining. After some time, Lupin had returned, seemingly pleased by Greyback’s acceptance of Hermione. They drank some more and laughed a lot. It was as a rather slow song was played in the radio that a big smile appeared on Lupin’s face. Quickly, he excused himself. Staggering slightly, he disappeared into a throng of dancing people. The next time Hermione spied him, Lupin was whirling around with a woman, garishly pink hair standing out against Lupin’s blond.

“So, you’re a student?”

Hermione blinked and turned away from the dancers. A woman sat across from her. She observed Hermione through narrowed eyes. Feeling slightly put off balance, Hermione nodded politely. The woman tilted her head, hard gaze wandering over Hermione. Then she inquired bluntly,

“How’s that working out for you, then?”

“Erm… pretty okay, I guess,” was Hermione’s confused reply.

She shifted uncomfortably as the woman’s piercing gaze never wavered. Just as Hermione wanted to somehow interrupt that awkward silence, a long-haired man, carrying two glasses of beer, plopped down beside the woman. He pushed one of the glasses over to her and commented dryly,

“Don’t you see that you’re unsettling her, Jen?”

The woman, Jen, looked at the man in indignation. “She almost cursed the Colonel. I don’t think she’s easily unsettled.” She turned to Hermione. “Isn’t that right?”

“Er…” Hermione struggled for words. “I- I’m not sure?”

Despite that shaky reply, Jen smiled widely and clapped Hermione on the shoulder as she exclaimed triumphantly,

“See? She’s fine.”

The man sighed into his beer. Meanwhile Jen continued her line of questioning.

“Are you gonna join the Corps?” she asked Hermione. “After you’re finished with that student thing you’ve got going?”

Hermione fiddled with her cup, nervously peering at the two werewolves. Timidly, she shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ve never thought of it.”

Once again, Jen stared at Hermione ominously like a predator observing its prey, not yet having decided whether it’s worth the effort of a hunt. Eventually, she opened her mouth and informed Hermione,

“Well, basic training involves a lot of crawling around in the mud.”

The easy, almost joking, lilt in Jen’s voice collided starkly with the hard look on her face. Hermione was bemused by the whole conversation. The yet unnamed man beside Jen wisely nodded his head.

“Lots of mud,” he confirmed smilingly. “And little food. I wish we had those MREs. But no, we got nothing.” He shook his head and drank from his beer. “You know, one day when I was in basic training I caught one of them water rats. Man, I almost wept for joy.”

Jen finally abandoned her strange staring and laughed heartily. “Almost? I remember you crying like a baby every day, mate.”

The man glared at Jen, a dangerous fire sparking in his eyes, and slapped his beer aggressively down on the table. He raised his hand and pointed at Jen, obviously about to start a heated argument. Then a grin split his face and he admitted easily, 

“You’re not wrong.”

They both laughed loudly and Hermione furrowed her brows at them. Werewolves sure were odd.

 

†

 

Without Hermione noticing – between talking with the werewolves and having more and more drinks – evening turned into late night. The looming school day tomorrow spurred Hermione to find Lupin. Her head swirled slightly from all the alcohol as she squeezed herself through dancing people in the hopes to find her teacher. It took her some time, but in the end she spied Lupin with a beer in his hand slumped on one of the benches. Quickly she stepped over to him. Half-lying on the table, Lupin didn’t seem to notice her presence at all, but continued to nip from his glass.

“Captain Lupin?”

Painfully slowly, the werewolf turned his head and with glassy eyes looked up at her.

“Oh,” Lupin slurred. “It’s ‘ermi’ne. I love ya, girl.”

“Em… that’s nice,” Hermione said awkwardly. “When are we leaving? I have school tomorrow…”

“Yeah, tha’s right,” Lupin proclaimed loudly. “No worries. I’ll bring ya back.”

The werewolf stood, wobbling around, and grinned down at Hermione. Then he took a step forwards and promptly fell on his face.

“Ow,” came a painful groan from the floor.

Hermione waited for a second, expecting him to get back up. That hope was squashed as she heard soft snores coming from the fallen wolf. No way was Lupin bringing her back tonight.

“Nice.” Sarcasm dripped thickly from her tone as she glared down at her so-called professor.

An arm was wrapped around her shoulders and, turning her head, Hermione recognized Greyback. There was a fat smirk on his face as he roughly nudged Lupin with his foot.

“Out like a light, the cocksucker,” he informed sagely.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He promised to bring me back to Hogwarts.”

“Sorry, lass.” Greyback shrugged his shoulders. “That dick’s not gonna wake up for a few hours.”

Hermione sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over her face. All the alcohol was catching up with her and she just wanted to lie down. Greyback grinned as he saw her stifling a yawn.

“Feel free to grab yourself a cot and get some shut-eye,” he offered.

Hermione wasn’t thrilled to be forced to stay the night – after all there was school tomorrow, not to speak of Tom… – but she really didn’t have much of a choice. Feeling rather tired, she smiled at Greyback.

“Thanks.”

As she shuffled away from the werewolf, Greyback’s teasing voice followed her, “Don’t curse anyone on the way. We’re all real nice people here.”

Hermione waved at him, not even bothering to turn around, and staggered from the room. It took her some time to find an empty room with a nice bed. By this point, Hermione had stopped to care whom this room belonged. Utterly exhausted, she dropped on the bed and was already asleep as her head hit the pillow.

 

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

 

Once again, his Mudblood was elusive. Tom was not amused. Incensed magic stormed inside of him as he sat in his Transfiguration class. He was barely able to concentrate on anything McGonagall said. Tom didn’t know where Hermione was. The seat beside him was suspiciously empty and it drove him crazy. Hermione might have been in a dejected mood lately and maybe he was partially to blame for that, but it did not give her any right to disappear like this.

It was a relief as, thirty minutes later, McGonagall concluded her lesson. Frustrated, Tom quickly left the classroom. As he walked to his next class, he still couldn’t spot Hermione anywhere. On the second floor Tom came upon one of her little friends. Reluctantly, he stepped over to the Weasley girl. He kept all annoyance from his face and even forced a small smile as he inquired,

“Ms Weasley, can I speak to you for a moment?”

The girl had the audacity to smirk at him and Tom needed to pull himself together to not curse her on the spot.

“Of course, Riddle,” Weasley said, still with that infuriating grin on her face.

“Do you have any idea where Hermione might be?” Tom asked, forcing a polite lilt into his voice.

He almost growled as he had to watch the grin on Weasley’s face gaining a decidedly smug aspect. The mocking glint in her eyes told him that she knew very well what Hermione was up to.

“What’s that?” Weasley scoffed, playing ignorant. “Don’t tell me you lost your girlfriend, Riddle. What a tragedy.”

Tom’s magic gave a furious budge. With force, he threw the power back and instead smiled at the girl amicably.

“I am concerned,” he told her blandly. “Hermione missed her classes. Maybe she is sick. Seeing as you two share a common room, I wondered if you might know more.”

The girl snorted at him disdainfully and Tom’s magic irately clashed against its restraints.

“You know,” Weasley said, eyeing him with nothing but contempt. “Maybe Hermione just got tired of you and decided she needed some space. Something I can fully understand.”

The polite smile was nailed to his face as Tom asked, “Do you know where she is or not?”

“Well, she’s certainly not with you.” Weasley just shrugged nonchalantly. “Talk about a hint, huh?”

Tom wished they were alone, so he could teach her some manners. He dropped his amicable mask and stated, malice twisting his words, “I thank you for your _invaluable_ help, Ms Weasley. I’ll be sure to repay you for it.”

A sadistic smirk curled his lips as he saw the unease flitter through Weasley’s eyes. The girl hid it behind a derogatory sneer, but he could see through her. With that he left her standing in the corridor.

Fuming angrily, Tom searched the castle. Hermione, though, remained to be missing. In the end, although he didn’t want to aggravate their already problematic relationship, Tom decided to call Hermione. He reached for the bond that chained her to him and sharply tugged at it. Tom waited for Hermione in the Heads’ common room. His temper spiralled slowly out of control as after more than half an hour, she still hadn’t shown. There were really only two explanations for her continued absence. Either Hermione dared to ignore his summon, which he doubted as it would be rather painful for her, or the Mudblood was out of reach and that would mean she had left Hogwarts.

Tom didn’t even realise how his hands balled into tight fists, fingernails boring harshly into his skin. His magic raged around him, wrenching violently at the common room’s interior. Tom didn’t care as the carpet around him caught fire, his magic greedily feeding the flames.

Was Hermione trying to run away from him?!

 

†

 

The next morning, Hermione woke to a murder headache. She hissed in pain as the door to her room was loudly snapped open and someone stepped in, cursing under his breath,

“That son of bi-“ The voice hesitated, obviously having spotted Hermione. “What the fuck? This is my room. Who’s that? Pucey? That you? I swear to god…”

The warm blanket was ripped away from Hermione and she blinked up into the unwelcome daylight.

“Well,” stated the same voice. “Not Pucey, then. Who’re you, now?”

Finally Hermione’s blurry eyesight cleared up and she looked up at a man standing in front of the bed. It took her not even a second to recognize him.

“S- Sirius Black?” Hermione shrieked shrilly.

The man flinched a bit away from her, anxiety flooding his face. He was rather tall and well-built with long black hair falling into his pale face. Hermione could see the resemblance to his brother Regulus, but mainly she recognized him from certain photos that had been all over the press. Grabbing her blanket uselessly, Hermione shied away from the man.

“Oh, shit,” Black mumbled shakily, eyeing Hermione. “This is not good.”

“Y- you are Sirius Black,” Hermione hoarsely stated the obvious.

The man glanced at her and she was taken aback to see a small, timid smile tugging at his lips.

“Er…” Black awkwardly fished for words. “Yeah… Any chance you can just… I don’t know… forget about this?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at him while her hand surreptitiously groped for her wand. She needed to get out of here. Merlin knew how that killer had got into the barracks. She had to alert someone, Hermione thought frantically. The door to the room was suddenly open again and in staggered a sick looking Lupin.

“Oi, Sirius,” the werewolf said. “Have you seen the-“

He stopped short as his red rimmed eyes took in the scene in front of him. Hermione still sat on the bed, blanket grabbed tightly as if to shield herself, while Black stood before her, looking quite helpless.

“Ah, never mind,” Lupin said tonelessly. “I just found her.”

Feeling horribly shaky, Hermione helplessly glanced at Lupin for an explanation. “Captain…?”

Black also looked at Lupin. Trying to break the ice with a joke, he said weakly, “So, you have her calling you ‘ _captain’_? You kinky bastard.”

Lupin’s yellow eyes glared at him. “Now’s not the time, mate.”

Hermione used Black’s lack in attention to finally grab her wand and jump from the bed. Threateningly, she aimed her wand at Black, magic storming around her.

“What is going on here?!”

“Whoa.” Black raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Why don’t you calm down? No need for wands.”

Never letting Black out of her sight, Hermione addressed Lupin, “Captain? What is Sirius Black doing here?”

Lupin took a step towards Hermione, but she shied away, grabbing her wand tighter. The werewolf stopped and soothed, “Hermione, it’s alright. Sirius… Black’s a friend.”

That did not convince Hermione in the slightest. Her magic rushed through her body, already pressing itself into her wand.

“He’s a murderer!”

“Hey,” Black protested, hands still raised in surrender. “I’m not a criminal. I’m… er…” He peered at Lupin. “I’m an honorary member of the pack.”

“You are a werewolf?” Hermione demanded to know.

Now a strange, almost sheepish look crossed Black’s face. “Not directly. No.”

Hermione furrowed her brow and threw a questioning look at Lupin. The werewolf sighed tiredly and let himself fall into the chair by the desk.

“It’s okay, Hermione,” he said, smiling softly at her. “ _He’_ s okay. Sirius is not dangerous. He’s a good friend.”  
  
“I’m your _best_ friend,” Black corrected confidently with a grin in place.

While Hermione did trust Lupin, she was not inclined to expand that trust to his dubious friends. So she didn’t lower her wand. Lupin raised his eyebrows at her.

“What do you know about Sirius Black?”

Hermione pursed her lips, trying to think rationally over all the adrenalin in her system.

“He’s a criminal.” She scanned Black suspiciously. “He… he’s the leader of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Exactly,” Lupin nodded. “And what is the Order of the Phoenix?”

“The Order… They’re terrorists. They’re…” Hermione gnawed at her lower lip. “They are stealing Mudbloods.”

Black threw her a small smile and corrected gently, “Not stealing. We’re freeing them.”

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. Her wand hand wavered slightly. “Freeing…?”

“That’s right,” Lupin said firmly. “Now think, Hermione. Do you – of all people – really want to threaten someone who is helping Muggleborns?”

The hand holding her wand trembled now and Hermione glanced helplessly at Lupin.

“No?”

The werewolf smiled at her encouragingly. “I promise, he’s not gonna hurt you. Lower your wand.”

And Hermione did. She didn’t know if it really was a good decision, but her wand sank to her side. With that, a huge smile appeared on Black’s face.

“Thank fuck,” he exclaimed. “Lupin was right. You’re one scary witch.”

Hermione eyed the man warily. While she did not return his smile, she had to admit it was rather contagious. Turned to Lupin, she inquired with a hint of accusation,

“You planned for me to meet him, didn’t you?”

The werewolf now looked downright guilty and tried to defend himself, “Maybe… But I swear you were not supposed to just stumble into him like this.”

 

†

Tom was furious.

That was probably an understatement. He remembered only a few accounts that he had lost control over his magic so profoundly and all of them lay way back in his childhood as magic had still been an abstract notion. Trying to reign in that infuriated force was difficult and Tom slipped a few times as he walked through Hogwarts. His magic found ways and channels to break away from its confines in his body. It prickled on his skin and stormed around him. A group of Ravenclaws was startled and some of them yelped in fright as Tom passed them, his magic fiercely pushing them out of his way. One of them was smacked into the corridor wall, but Tom didn’t care.

Hermione was gone. She had dared to leave him.

 

†

 

“Captain, why did you want me to meet Black?” Hermione asked warily.

“I think it’s time to cut the formalities,” Black quipped. “Don’t cha think, Lu-Lu?”

Lupin demonstratively rolled his eyes. Black shrugged, grinned at Hermione and proclaimed teasingly, “Alright-y, then. You can call him Remy.”

A sour look on his face, Lupin said, “I think not.”

“Yeah…” Black said pensively. “I guess Remus _is_ quite the odd name.”

“Pff. As if Sirius is so much better,” Lupin scorned. Then he turned to Hermione and said kindly, “Let’s just stay with Lupin, hm? Everybody calls me that. The mutt is right, Remus just sounds strange.”

“Ha!” Black smirked and bowed exaggeratedly to Hermione. “You can call me Sirius. Because I think _my_ name is awesome.”

Still grinning, Black – or rather _Sirius_ – sat down on the bed and stretched his legs lazily. Hermione didn’t quite know what to make of him. Never had she thought she would one day meet the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. Freeing Mudbloods was a rather foreign concept to her. Why would any wizard do that? Confused thoughts whirled through Hermione’s mind as she watched the black-haired man.

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? You’re a Pureblood. A _Black_. And they’re…”

Sirius threw her a wry smile. “Not really known to be a liberal lot?”

Hermione shrugged and nodded. Lupin, still lounging on his chair, supplied, “James Potter.”

Hermione frowned at him in confusion. “Potter? Your friend, the Auror?”

“Yes,” Sirius replied instead of Lupin. “James and me, we were Aurors back in the day.” A wistful look crossed his face. “We were assigned to Greyback’s pack. Liaison officers. And Lupin, here, was our contact. We made a good team, didn’t we? Best buddies.”

Lupin nodded, sad smile on his face, and told Hermione, “We were like brothers.”

Sirius winced as if something had physically hurt him. He glanced at Hermione. “Everything went really swimmingly. You know, hunting down criminals, kicking some asses… ‘twas perfect. Until James screwed up.” Sirius barked out a laugh. “Old sap that he was, he fell in love.”

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. Lupin took over and explained, “Her name was Lily. Her _real_ name.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in comprehension. “A Mudblood?”

“Yes,” said Sirius. “My mother had one of her fancy parties. All posh and whatnot. I just went there to stir shit up. That’s why I brought my good friends, the werewolf-halfblood and the blood traitor. I _was_ kinda hoping to give dear old mum an aneurism.”

Lupin threw him a reproachful look and took over, “Lily was at the party, serving the guests. She was young – not older than we were back then – and nice. James fell for her head over heels.”

Sirius nodded, “Yep, he fucked that up.”

“Anyway,” Lupin continued. “James wanted to save Lily, but we knew Sirius’ mother would never sell her to him. Not when his whole family was already stamped as blood traitors. I couldn’t buy her either, because werewolves don’t own Muggleborns. So-“  
  
“That left dear old me,” Sirius butted in. “Of course mum hated me with a passion, so there was no other way but steal Lily. It was actually surprisingly easy. I took her out of the mansion. Then Lupin and his wolf-buddies took over to smuggle her through half the country to James’ place. All’s well that ends well, we thought.”

Immersed in the story, Hermione plopped down beside Sirius on the bed. “What went wrong?”

Sirius threw her a mirthless grin. “My mother is what went wrong. She’s like one of them bloodhounds. Once she picks up a scent, she won’t let go. And she knew from the start that _I_ ’d been behind the so-called theft of her _property_.”

Lupin sighed deeply. “Walburga Black wanted to see us all hanged. It wasn’t even about Lily. It was about power and to prove a point.”

Sirius shrugged, not even a hint of a grin on his face anymore. “The Blacks are known to be discrete, efficient and cruel. Should be our family motto. And my mother was the queen of all that cloak and dagger shit. She hired people. People that were very good at their jobs.”

“They found Lily?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“Yes,” Lupin replied tightly. “It took them a while, but they found James, Lily and their one year old son in their cottage up in the north. That night, all three of them were killed.”

Releasing a shaky breath, Hermione stared at the werewolf. She didn’t really know what to say. It was a horrible story.

“That’s what the Oder of the Phoenix is about,” Sirius’ grave voice cut through the silence. His eyes bored into Hermione. “You asked me why I fight with the Order. This is why. The shit that happened to James, Lily and their son, ‘s just not right.”

 

†

 

Tom had left the influence of Hogwarts’ wards behind and sharply tugged at the bond between him and Hermione. She was still out of reach. Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on the bond. It was difficult to grasp the weak trickle of her magic. It was barely there. A lesser wizard would have been forced to give up, but Tom knew the workings of magic. Trickle or not, he knew what to follow and with a sharp snap dove into the darkness of apparition.

It took him stops in Heaton Park by Manchester, two small villages near Glasgow and Newcastle and a trip to Northern Ireland to triangulate Hermione’s position. She was hidden away in a forest in South Scotland. It was a rather large area, but Tom could sense magic deep in the forest. Once again, he stepped into the tight pressure of apparition and reappeared at the edge of those protective wards.

 

†

 

“Despite what his mother said,” Lupin said, small smile on his face. “Sirius can be rather ambitious when he wants to be. Without him, the Order wouldn’t be what it is today.”

Hermione nodded, a smile stealing on her own face. Before Lupin could add any more, a loud howl could be heard from outside. He stiffened as he heard it.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Lupin informed them and strode over to the door. “I’ll bring you back to school later. That okay, Hermione?”

“I’m late anyway.” Hermione shrugged. “It’s not going to get any worse.”

Sirius laughed. “That’s my girl.”

“You keep an eye on her,” the werewolf ordered.

“Aye-aye, sir,” Sirius supplied lazily. “And you watch out for Greyback. Otherwise the old drunk’s gonna drown in his own vomit.”  
  
Lupin glared at him. “That’s my pack leader you’re talking about.”

Sirius grimaced and waved the werewolf away. Then his eyes flipped to Hermione.

“Good man,” Sirius said fondly. “Just a bit uptight if you ask me.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that. ‘Uptight’ wasn’t the word she would use to describe Lupin. Still, the same fond tint was in her voice as she replied,

“He helped me a lot. And he’s a fantastic teacher.”

“He told me the same about you being such a good student,” Sirius said cheerfully. “Actually, he couldn’t stop gushing about how talented you are.”

Hermione blushed slightly under the praise, making Sirius smirk. Carefully, she scanned him. The ex-Auror lounged on the bed, easy-going attitude swirling around him. Hermione worried her lower lip, but then dared to ask what had been bothering her the whole time,

“What do you want from me?”

Sirius didn’t seem in the least surprised by her question. The smile on his face never faltered, but it did lose its playfulness. His tone of voice was grave as he explained,

“You’re in an exceptional position, Hermione. A Muggleborn at Hogwarts. That’s not happened since Grindelwald took over.”  
  
“I know…” Hermione whispered, not really understanding where this was going.

“Don’t you see what you’re doing?” Sirius asked kindly.

She frowned at him and her confusion made him chuckle. “You’re disproving them. They say Muggleborns are weak, that their magic is feeble at best. And yet, Lupin tells me that you’re his best student. They also claim that Muggleborns are stupid, unable to learn anything. But there you are, getting nothing but O’s. You are the counterevidence to all those theories that claim Muggleborns are hardly more than animals.” Sirius grabbed her hand and held in gently. Gazing into her eyes, he said, “You could change things, Hermione.”

Hermione pondered him before she stated, “You want me to join the Order.”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to fight,” she breathed weakly.

“Yes.”

Hermione pulled her hand away from his. “I- I don’t want to fight.”

“No, you don’t,” Sirius provided gingerly. “It’s entirely your decision. And if you don’t, everyone can understand. It’s not an easy fight and to be honest, we’re outnumbered. Badly. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t started this. But I can’t stop now.”

“Because of James and Lily?” Hermione asked softly.

“Yes. And more,” Sirius replied. “Believe me I hate asking this of you, but I needed to put it out.”  
  
Hermione nervously licked her lip. “I don’t know…”

Sirius threw her an encouraging smile. “I don’t want you to decide right now. This is something you need time to think over. I just needed you to know that we’re here and that we want you.”

Hermione peered up at the man, feeling unsettled. Sirius saw the trepidation flickering through her eyes and again grabbed her hand soothingly. The corners of his mouth curved up into a boyish grin.

“Now, enough of this grave shit. Gives me a headache this early in the morning,” he said teasingly. “Let’s go down and grab some breakfast. How’s that sound?”

She blinked at him owlishly. There was still a wide smile on Sirius’ face and it was rather contagious. Hermione grinned back at him and nodded.

 

†

 

Like a caged tiger, Tom paced the boundaries of the warding spell. His magic now and then sparked and lashed out against the barrier. Whatever he did, he couldn’t breach the wards. They were almost as strong as the ones surrounding Hogwarts. At the very least, Tom had cast a spell over his own eyes so he could look past the barrier. Two werewolves had guarded the entry point and Tom had instantly known who exactly had taken Hermione. Upon his arrival, one of the wolves had hurried away, presumably to inform a superior about his presence. The other werewolf had remained behind. Although Tom didn’t openly watch her, he never let the werewolf out of his line of sight. The woman stood a few metres away from the magical wall and blatantly observed Tom.

It must have been ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, that finally something happened. Tom spotted two figures walking towards the edge of the ward. He stopped his incessant pacing and stared at them. A wave of white-hot anger washed over him as he recognized them. One of the figures was Lupin. A careless grin hovered around the werewolf’s face as he threw a mocking look at Tom. The other figure was indeed Hermione. Instantly Tom’s eyes zeroed in on her. He was slightly taken aback as she didn’t attempt to avoid his gaze despite her previous disobedient behaviour. No sign of her bending her head like she was wont to do.

“How did you find us?” Lupin’s raspy voice demanded to know.

Tom’s angry eyes wandered from Hermione to Lupin. Condescension dripped from his voice as he stated, “I am Hermione’s Master. Wherever she goes, I can track her down.”

The threat in his tone was unmistakable and Tom smirked cruelly as he saw the anger flittering through Lupin’s eyes.

“Well, let me rephrase that,” the werewolf drawled, showing his sharp teeth. “What do you want here?”

Once again a strand of Tom’s incensed magic licked over the warding spell and the shield flickered shortly.

“I want to retrieve what is mine,” Tom snarled lividly.

His lethal glare bored into the Mudblood. Hermione dared to hold his gaze, scanning him searchingly. Tom ascribed her boldness to the ward that still spanned between them.

Unimpressed, Lupin rolled his eyes. “You do have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you?”

“Did you think you could just take her?” Tom spat, malice bending his voice.

“No,” Lupin explained slowly as if talking to a child. “I merely invited Hermione for a short visit. There really is no need for you to show up here like the scorned husband, Riddle.”

Instantly, Tom’s magic burst from him and violently rammed into the warding shield. This time he could feel the foreign magic shuddering under the onslaught. In cruel satisfaction he watched as Hermione winced and painfully rubbed her left forearm.

“It’s not Lupin’s fault,” the girl said beseechingly. “I just wanted to see the barracks. I never planned to stay here. I wanted to be back sooner, but I slept in. I’m sorry.”

As Tom stared into Hermione’s brown eyes, his magic strangely calmed down. He was still angry, but he could also see the honesty on her face. Still, his voice was hard as steel as he ordered,

“Come here. We are leaving.”

Hermione nodded duteously. To Tom’s annoyance, though, she didn’t immediately hasten to follow his command. Instead she turned to Lupin and smiled up at him.

“Thank you for inviting me. I really had a great time. But it’s best I go back with Tom now.”

The werewolf’s yellow eyes scanned the girl and Tom balled his hands into tight fists as he saw the worry in them. The stupid dog had no business being concerned about Hermione’s wellbeing.

“Okay,” Lupin said reluctantly. “But you can always come back and visit us again.”

Tom narrowed his eyes in suspicion as Lupin winked at Hermione and lightly tugged at a chain hanging around her neck. The Mudblood beamed up at him.

“Thank you,” she said happily.

Finally, Hermione turned away from the wolf and walked over to Tom. She shuddered slightly as she passed the ward, but otherwise remained to be untouched. Wordlessly, Hermione stepped closer to him. Tom could see she was wary of him, which was a very good idea on her part, but something had shifted. It was so subtle, though, that Tom couldn’t say what exactly was different. He reached for Hermione and harshly grabbed her arm, knowing but not caring that his tight grip would probably leave her bruised. Hermione didn’t fight him and followed him without argument, but her posture and movements seemed to have shed their deference. Irately, Tom pulled her closer, making Hermione stumble slightly.

“You should have asked me before you ran off with that dog,” Tom snapped at her, malice bending his tone.

Hermione nodded while watching him shrewdly as if trying to figure something out. Tom wondered what puzzle it was she was working on.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” the Mudblood finally replied, voice firm but in no way confrontative. “But I thought you would say no.”

Warningly Tom’s fingers flexed around her arm. Throwing her a dark glare, he snapped, “All the more reason for you not to go, don’t you think?”

Hermione’s steady gaze never left him as she pondered how to reply. Cautiously, she worded, “It was an interesting opportunity. It would have been a shame to miss out on it.”

It was a rather diplomatic non-answer, almost Slytherin-esque in its room for interpretation. Tom didn’t like it. He also didn’t like the off-handedness with which Hermione handled the situation.

“It seems I have been too lax with you,” Tom told her icily. “I will have to limit your liberties more strictly, Hermione.”

With that his grip on her yet again tightened, then he pulled her with him into apparition and towards Hogwarts.

 

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

 

**‘But pray not to defend from harm,**

**Nor danger to dispel;**

**Pray, rather, that with steadfast arm**

**I fight the battle well.’**

**\- James Weldon Johnson**

**(*1871 † 1938)**


	23. Simple Maid

With a sharp snapping sound, Tom reappeared in the Forbidden Forest outside of Hogwarts' wards. Hermione stood beside him, scanning him with a wary expression. Tom didn't release her but pulled her harshly with him as he strode through the forest.

"When exactly did you run off with Lupin?" he asked, dangerous tint to his voice.

Hermione peered at him searchingly. "Yesterday evening."

"So, you stayed overnight," Tom realized furiously. "Is that right?"

She nodded and Tom's magic raged inside of him. She had stayed with that werewolf all night? He had to hold his magic back so it wouldn't immediately attack the girl. Seething inside, he inquired harshly,

"Where did you sleep?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What do you think? In the barracks, of course."

"Alone?"

The Mudblood stared at him for a moment, before she replied indignantly, "Yes."

Tom felt slightly mollified, but his anger still boiled very close to the surface. "I am not very happy with you, Hermione."

His anger only intensified as the girl didn't immediately apologize. Mutely, she walked beside him, not looking very contrite.

"You're never going to do something like this again," Tom ordered irately.

"Okay," was Hermione's non-committal answer.

"I won't have you wandering around like a stray dog," he insisted sharply. "From now on, you are to ask me before you leave the castle. I don't care if you just want to go to the Quidditch pitch with your friends. You're going to find me and I will tell you if it's okay for you to go."

Hermione nodded, face blank, and Tom became more and more annoyed by her closed off demeanour. Magic raging inside of him, he continued his rant,

"After classes are finished, I want you to go to the Heads' common room right away,  _every day_. I told you that before and I don't know why you stopped, but I'm not going to tolerate your excursions anymore. Do you understand?"

This time at least he got a small reaction from Hermione. She peered at him through the corners of her eyes and asked in a detached voice,

"What are you going to do if I fail to abide by your rules?"

Tom glared at her and threatened, "You really don't want to find out."

Hermione gazed at him, her eyes boring into him. It was a strange feeling to be under her scrutiny. Finally, she seemed to come to a conclusion. Whatever it was, though, she didn't voice it. Without saying anything, the Mudblood simply nodded. Fed up by her stoic behaviour, Tom decided acridly,

"And you're going to quit the DADA club."

Hermione finally abandoned her indifferent mask. A sharp frown knitted her brow. She stopped walking and stared up at Tom. He wasn't going to give in and simply glowered back at her.

"But…" Hermione said tightly. "I don't want to quit DADA."

Tom shrugged his shoulders and said meanly, "I don't care."

He continued his way, but Hermione didn't follow.

"Why do you want me to quit?" she asked, voice strained with upcoming anger.

Tom turned around to her and replied frostily, "Because I don't trust you around Lupin."

"Lupin is my friend!" Hermione snapped at him, for the first time raising her voice.

"Watch how you speak with me," he hissed menacingly.

Once again, Hermione did not instantly apologize to appease his temper, but glared belligerently. Tom took a threatening step towards her, invading her personal space. A light pressure on his chest stopped him. As he looked down he saw Hermione's hand lying on his chest. Tom wanted to snap at her that she had no business to keep him at a distance, but was stopped by the surprise on Hermione's face. With wide eyes, she stared at her own hand, before she pulled the offending appendage away from Tom.

"Sorry," Hermione said in a horribly distanced tone.

_Why_  was she apologizing? Tom irately wondered. Did she not want to touch him? Was that it? Maybe she preferred to touch _Lupin_. The thought made Tom's magic twitch in angry protest. Driven by his fury, he grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and pulled her closer. She flinched at the contact and Tom felt insulted by her lack of trust.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he bit out venomously.

Hermione stared up at him and he could see the distrust on her face.

"As long as I do what you say,", she clinically observed.

Gruffly, Tom pushed her away from him and snarled, "Do I really ask so much of you? You can go to your classes and the library as you please. I'll let you go outside and meet your friends. And I never expected you to do any chores. What more do you want? I don't think you had any of that luxury with the Malfoys."

"No, I did not," Hermione agreed tonelessly.

She seemed to ponder something, but Tom didn't really care what went through her head. The situation was quite clear to him. In a soft voice, Hermione inquired,

"Why did you tell me to stop calling you Master?"

Tom shook his head, feeling frustrated and annoyed. Why was she bringing this up  _now_? Why couldn't she just admit that she was in the wrong here? He certainly was not in the mood to indulge her truculent behaviour. Feeling thoroughly miffed, Tom replied cruelly,

"If you call me Master in private, you'll get used to it and then you'll slip up when other people are around. It doesn't matter how you call me, I  _am_  your Master and you need to obey me."

As he spoke the words, Tom could see Hermione's face completely shutting down. Even her anger disappeared behind the expressionless mask and he felt the urge to scream in frustration.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione didn't know what to do. It was the Monday after her little stunt with the werewolves and Tom had made good on his threat to be stricter with her. Hermione wasn't allowed to do anything without his permission. It was horribly restricting, even worse than Malfoy manner. At least the Malfoys had never cared what she was up to as long as she did her chores. She wished she could talk to someone about it. Unfortunately, Lupin was still back at the barracks and wouldn't return for a week. And Sirius would be arrested should he ever show his face at Hogwarts.

Hermione felt quite alone as she sat in the Heads' common room. Tom wasn't there yet and she had stretched out on the couch. Her back was propped up against the armrest and there was a cup of tea in her hand while she read The Tales of Beedle the Bard.  _A shame_ , Hermione thought as she enjoyed the story of Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump. She couldn't really concentrate on the story, though. Her thoughts circled around Tom. The whole situation was awful and she desperately didn't want to drop Lupin's class. How to solve the problem though?

' _If you want Riddle to treat you differently, you have to stop behaving like his servant,'_ Lupin might have said, but Hermione _was_  Tom's servant. He was her  _Master_. He had said so himself. What would he do, should she defy him? Beat her? Curse her? Hermione had had enough of that in her life already. She didn't need Tom to add to it.

' _You just need to curse him,'_ was Lupin's advice and Hermione wasn't sure it was a good one. What was her alternative, though? Continue to live in this limbo? She was neither a student nor the slave girl Penny anymore.

' _I just needed you to know that we're here and that we want you.'_

Hermione groaned as Sirius' voice decided to chip in as well. This was a whole other issue she didn't know how to solve. Maybe Sirius wouldn't even want her in the Order if he knew how she still grovelled at her master's feet.

Hermione was ripped from her depressing thoughts as the door creaked open. She glanced over to the entrance and spotted Tom, his Hogwarts' uniform sleek as always. He truly was a handsome young man. Hermione wanted to jump up from the couch – she couldn't laze around with her master in the same room – but Lupin's words held her back,

' _You've got to take that power from him.'_

Hermione forced herself to remain lying on the couch, fingers nervously tightening around her book. If Sirius and Lupin could fight for all the Mudbloods out there, wasn't it pathetic that she couldn't stand up for herself?

"Hermione," Tom greeted curtly. "There you are."

"Hey, Tom," mumbled Hermione, feeling jittery all of a sudden.

She forced her eyes back to her book and pretended not to notice Tom anymore. If he was impressed by her lack of interest in his person, he certainly didn't show it. Instead Tom stepped closer to her and stared down at her imperiously.

"We still have to finish that Transfiguration project for McGonagall," he told her commandingly. "I think it's best we start now. Get up, we are going to the library."

Hermione didn't immediately react. Unhurriedly, she finished the page of her book. By then Tom was tapping his fingers irritably against his leg. She turned her head and looked up at him. Tom stared back at her, annoyance smouldering in his blue eyes. Hermione could feel her heart hammering fast in her chest.

"I would really  _love_  to do that," she said, not sounding sincere at all. "but I'm busy right now."

With that she returned to her book and took a sip from her tea. Despite that calm display, Hermione couldn't at all concentrate on the text as she nervously waited for Tom's reaction.

"You are not doing anything," he pointed out, suppressed anger leaking through his words. "You are reading a storybook."

As she heard the dangerous tint in his voice, Hermione wanted to flinch away from him. She controlled herself, though, and replied loftily,

"Yeah, well …still busy. Maybe tomorrow."

Tom didn't react at all. Hermione couldn't take it anymore. Cautiously, she peered up at him. Tom's mouth was pressed into a thin angry line and his hands were balled into tight fists. They trembled slightly as if he had to restrain himself. Cold chills darted up and down Hermione's spine as fear bubbled up in her. She forcefully banned all hints of trepidation from her face and blinked up at Tom, seemingly unimpressed by his anger.

After a moment of hovering on the brink of losing his temper, Tom finally pressed through gritted teeth, "Okay. Let's do this tomorrow then."

Hermione barely caught herself from gaping at him. She had been prepared to once again getting crucioed. At the very least, she had expected Tom to yell at her and violently wrench her to the library. She hid her surprise behind a wall of boredom and shrugged her shoulders.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom's lack of reaction to her insolence made Hermione think. She should probably count herself lucky and forget about the whole incident, but it continued to gnaw at her. What would happen, should Hermione follow Lupin's advice and challenge Tom's authority? What would Tom do if he lost his patience with her? How far would he go?

It was self-destructive, but Hermione couldn't help it. Her chance came when Tom was in a meeting with Dippet and she was left to her own devices. History of Magic would start soon, but Hermione didn't want to hear any more of Carrow's unhealthy hero worship of Grindelwald and decided to skip the class.

_This is a stupid idea_ , Hermione thought, exciting tingle running up and down her spine. By now the corridors were deserted and all students were in their classes. Hermione ran a shaky hand through her hair, a ball of fear building in her stomach. Still, there was also a traitorous smile on her face as she stole away from Carrow's class. She had almost reached the Entrance Hall as a sharp voice called her back,

"Hermione?"

She stiffened and then slowly turned around. Supressing a groan, she watched Tom walking towards her.

"Don't you have History of Magic right now?" he chided, reproachful look on his face.

Hermione blinked up at him and shoved all traces of fear into the back of her mind.

"Yes."

Tom scowled at her. "Then, pray tell, why are you here and not in your classroom?"

"Well, you're not there either," she pointed out innocently.

"I'm Head Boy. I had an important meeting with Dippet," Tom said, anger ridging his voice. "Why are you not in your class, Hermione?"

Hiding all signs of her trepidation, Hermione scanned her fingernails in feigned boredom. "Didn't want to go. Carrow's a hag."

The scowl on Tom's face turned into a full blown glare and she could feel his upcoming magic bristling agitatedly around them.

"I don't care what you think of Carrow," Tom hissed dangerously. "You are going to her class. Now!"

Hermione tilted her head, her brow furrowed as if she considered his order. Then she forced out one word,

"No."

It cost her a lot of effort to keep up her nonchalant façade as she saw the anger raging in Tom's blue eyes. Harshly, he grabbed her arm. Hermione shuddered under his tight grip and fought her instinct of cowering away.

"You  _are_  going to that class," Tom commanded sharply. "What's got into you?"

The menacing tinge in his voice made Hermione's heart clench. Not waiting for her fear to finally paralyse her, she sent a wave of her magic into her arm. Instantly, Tom let go of her as if he had been burned.

"NO, I'M NOT GOING!" Hermione yelled at him.

Tom's eyes widened slightly as her defiance thundered over him, clearly put off balance.

"Hermione, what's wrong w-"

"Nothing!"

Tom looked at her, outraged. Hermione couldn't blame him. Never in her life had she behaved so childishly. He opened his mouth to either try to reason with her or to curse her. Hermione didn't wait to find out. She turned on the spot and just ran away.

†

Heart still fluttering in her chest, Hermione sat in the grass and looked over the Great Lake. Skipping class. She simply couldn't believe it. It was stupid and pointless and completely immature. A misplaced giggle tore from her mouth. This was in a strange way thrilling. Maybe she could use the time to finish her Arithmancy essay.

_Doing homework while skipping class?_  Hermione laughed.

Her hand went to her left forearm, trying to rub the sting away. Her Dark Mark throbbed forebodingly ever since she had left Tom standing in that corridor. He was angry. Hermione shrugged, reached for a pebble and flipped it over the water. This was way better than listening to Carrow.

For the next half an hour, she idly sat in the grass and observed a group of ducks dipping their heads into the water in search of plants. Hermione thoroughly enjoyed her stolen free time until she was harshly interrupted.

"There you are," a deep voice growled at her.

A hand seized the back of her collar, gruffly pulling her up. Hermione turned her head and found a furious Tom standing by her side.

"Did you think you could hide here?" he snarled. "Intending to skip Transfiguration, as well?"

Ungently, he wrenched her with him towards the castle and continued to rebuke her sharply, "What in Merlin's name are you thinking? After classes today, you are going to seek out Carrow and apologize. I will not have you behaving like this."

Hermione didn't react at all. Just to be obnoxious, she dragged her feet. Of course, Tom was right. Not going to classes was horrible, even Carrow's. But this wasn't about school. This was about Tom and how far he would go to make her obey him.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The next day, Hermione sat in Potions, rebellious glint in her eyes. Riddle had put a blank piece of parchment in front of her but she was again defying him and did not write down any notes. Her fingers itched for her quill, but she was resisting the urge. She needed to annoy Tom some more and she was being successful, too. An angry vein had started to throb in his temple while he scribbled away on his parchment.

There had to be a breaking point. Hermione was desperate to find it. What would Tom do? What would  _she_  do? She was on equal parts scared and curious. Whatever happened, though, at the very least it would finally end this state of uncertainty.

"Work in pairs," Slughorn reminded them at the end of his lecture. "The Memory Potion is very complex."

Tom glanced at Hermione, frightening look on his face. She tried to ignore the trepidation knotting her stomach.

"Start with cutting the dandelion roots," Tom ordered harshly. "I'll get the Jobberknoll feathers."

Hermione shrugged. "Okay."

Tom clenched his jaw in anger at her careless answer and wordlessly disappeared to the potions storage. Hermione leaned back in her seat and eyed the small sachet of dandelion roots. Despite Tom's order, she didn't move to get her knife. Around her the other students set to work, but Hermione just sat there, doing nothing.

After a few minutes, Tom came back with a handful of beautiful blue feathers. His frosty eyes spotted the still untouched dandelion roots while Hermione lounged idly in her chair. Anger twisted Tom's features in face of her disobedience. He didn't say anything, though. Furiously, he slammed the feathers on the table, bending a few, and grabbed the knife to cut the dandelion roots.

Hermione watched him, still acting as if she weren't bothered by Tom's obvious anger. Despite the mounting pain in her Dark Mark, she didn't raise a hand to help him. It was slightly confusing that he hadn't yet yelled at her, but they were in a classroom full of people. Tom probably held back.

For the next half an hour, Hermione languidly flipped through a book while Tom feverishly worked on the potion. He threw her a lethal glare now and then, but she simply ignored him. She could feel the pressure of his increasingly incensed magic, but wouldn't allow it to disturb her. The potion neared its finishing stages as Tom finally lost his composure.

"Are you going to help me at all?" he hissed under his breath, irritation thick in his voice.

Hermione looked up from her book and replied, unconcerned, "No, I don't think so."

"Hermione, I swear to G-"

"Your shrivelfig solution is boiling over," she informed him indifferently.

Cursing colourfully, Tom tended to his potion. For the next fifteen minutes he was too busy to spend any time on Hermione. Hectically, he added ingredients, adjusted the temperature and stirred the potion.

The class was almost over as Slughorn called their attention, "Time to wrap it all up."

Hermione put down her book and for the first time glanced at the potion. She was impressed. It had the right pearly white colour. Tom wiped his forehead while glaring at her. Hermione calmly gazed back at him, hiding the fact that his angry eyes made chills darting down her spine.

Slughorn wandered through the classroom, inspecting his students' work. He was only one table away from her and Tom as Hermione had an idea. She didn't know what drove her – maybe a death wish? – but she grabbed a bezoar. Tom cleared their table, but looked up as she dangled the bezoar tantalizingly over the bubbling potion.

"What the fuck are y-"

Hermione grinned at him widely and let the bezoar drop into the cauldron. The moment it made contact with the white potion a black tinge tarnished it. In seconds it spread until the potion was a sickly grey. Hastily, Tom tried to fish the bezoar out but it was too late. There was a murderous expression on his face as he rounded on Hermione. She actually cringed away from his angry form. Before Tom could do anything, Slughorn stepped over to them.

"Tom," the professor exclaimed in shock as he stared down at the failed potion. "Whatever happened here?"

"Sir, I really don't know," Tom managed to press out, his voice trembling with repressed fury. "I guess the shrivelfig must have been… contaminated."

Slughorn frowned down at the greyish potion, stirring it with the ladle. "Yes. That might have been where the problem occurred."

"I think it was Tom's fault," Hermione butted in, voice sweet as honey.

Slughorn looked at her in confusion while a lethal glare was hidden behind Tom's blank face. Hermione ignored the sharp pain that tugged at her left forearm and concentrated on the professor.

"You see," she said innocently. "I told Tom not to put in so much of the tubeworm secrete." She fluttered her eyelashes at Slughorn. "Professor, you clearly stated in your lecture to only use three drops." Hermione sighed dramatically. "But Tom just wouldn't listen to me and put in a whole ladle."

"Tom!" Slughorn cried reproachfully.

"Sir, I really-"

"No no," the professor cut over Tom, wagging a stern finger. "How very unlike you. I'm afraid I will have to fail you for that potion."

"But, sir-"

"No excuses," admonished Slughorn. Then he turned to Hermione and added, a lot kinder, "Ms Rookwood, I can tell that you tried your best. So, I'll give you an Acceptable for your work."

Hermione smiled at him dazzlingly. "Thank you so much, professor."

Slughorn beamed at her before he continued on with grading the other students' potions. Hermione proceeded to pack away her things, trying to ignore the sinister magic storming around Tom. He looked at her so darkly, it made her tremble in fear. Just a few minutes later, Slughorn concluded the lesson. Hermione hastily grabbed her bag and ran from the room.

Without turning back once, she raced to the Gryffindor common room. Tom would probably kill her if he caught her alone. Even as she hid in the Gryffindor common room, heart still racing in her chest, Hermione felt her Dark Mark smarting with her master's anger.

†

It was dinner time as Hermione reluctantly entered the Great Hall. The hall was crowded with students, reducing the risk of Tom doing anything to her. Hermione could see her Gryffindor friends already sitting at their table. Instead of walking to them, though, she turned left and stalked over to the Slytherin table. Hermione's gaze quickly swept over the Slytherins. Unlike the Gryffindors there was some type of hierarchy underlying the seating arrangements. First years sat at the edge of the table. Some older but unpopular students sat among them, looking glum. The closer the Slytherins sat to the middle of the table, the higher up they were in social standing. All revolved around a group of seventh years sitting right at the centre of the table. Of course Hermione knew them: Dolohov, Rosier, Draco and Bellatrix. They represented the most powerful members of Slytherin house and everybody else threw them jealous glances. The king and leader of them all was still absent, though. Hermione saw an open seat between Bellatrix and Dolohov. With the reverence that they kept it open, it appeared to be more of a throne. Tom Riddle was late.

_Probably searching for me._

Valiantly suppressing her fear, Hermione walked towards that unoccupied seat. A few Slytherins noticed her and started to whisper. Hermione ignored their curious glances. With a cheerful smile, she plopped down on the king's seat. Instantly all chatter died down and the Slytherins stared at her. Hermione completely ignored the tense silence but instead reached for a cheese sandwich and said happily,

"Good evening."

"Um…" stuttered Draco, looking quite ruffled. "What are you doing here, Hermione?"

Hermione sent him a bright, but completely fake, smile and explained, "Trying for a bit of house unity?"

"I… er… I see," mumbled the blond.

Regulus, who sat across from Draco, eyed Hermione in concern. He leaned a bit closer and whispered,

"Riddle is searching for you. Maybe it's best you… avoid him."

A small smile appeared on Hermione's face as she heard Regulus' warning. She appreciated his concern. Sadly, it was much too late to save her.

"It's fine really," she lied confidently as she chewed on her sandwich.

Tom's friends, or  _followers_ , didn't seem convinced at all. Bellatrix glared hostilely, fingers tightening around her knife. Draco, Rosier and Dolohov eyed Hermione in confusion, obviously not yet having made up their minds about the situation. What Hermione disturbed most was the worry on Regulus' face.

"The last time I spoke with Tom," Bellatrix declared, sadistic glint in her eyes. "He seemed to be really  _enraged_  about something."

The malicious sheen remained to glimmer in her eyes, but a disturbing smile curled her lips as she looked at Hermione.

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Rookwood?"

Hermione covered all her insecurity behind a fake smile. "No, I really wouldn't. Why shoul-"

"What are you doing here?" an angry voice cut over her.

Hermione turned her head. Tom stood directly behind her. She bit her tongue sharply as she felt his magic painfully reverberating through her Dark Mark.

"Eating?" Hermione replied flippantly.

Through the corners of her eyes she saw Tom's followers tensing at her insolent reply. With morbid curiosity they watched their leader and his defiant girlfriend.

"I see," Tom said, a dangerous edge ridging his tone.

Angry frown in place, he gestured for Dolohov to make room for him. Instantly, the Slytherin obeyed and Tom sat down beside Hermione. A thick aura of dark magic hung in the air and her Dark Mark constantly hurt. Hermione tried to ignore the lethal stare that was directed at her.

"So…" she said lightly, smiling at Dolohov. "Tell me about that secret group you've got going. I take it Tom's your leader?"

Dolohov almost spat out the juice he'd been drinking. Coughing violently, he stared at Hermione. Unaffected, she took a delicate sip from her own pumpkin juice.

"What's your group called?" she asked, deliberately ignoring the panic on the Slytherins' faces. "I bet it's something fancy. Tom's a right drama queen, after all."

Satisfied, Hermione watched all colour leaving Dolohov's face while an angry purple colour appeared on Bellatrix'. Throwing fearful glances at Tom, Regulus bent a little closer to Hermione and whispered urgently,

"Hermione,  _please_. I think it's better you go to the Gryffindor table."

"Nah," she said, unconcerned. "I feel right at home here."

All the time, she could feel Tom's furious gaze boring holes into her. She coldly ignored his anger and smiled at Dolohov.

"Can I join your club?" Hermione asked innocently. "What's your agenda anyway?"

Dolohov cleared his throat and threw a glance at Riddle. He clearly was intimidated with what he found on Tom's face and quickly concentrated on Hermione again.

"Look," he said shakily. "I really don't know what you're talking about. Maybe it's best we don't discuss this here. People might get the wrong impression"

"Why not?" asked Hermione very aware that the Great Hall really was the wrong place to talk. "You're not doing anything _illegal_ , are you?"

Dolohov's eyes widened, panic setting in, while Hermione felt Regulus frantically tugging at her sleeve. It was Tom, though, who spoke next.

"A word, Hermione," he hissed so darkly it made her shudder involuntarily.

Not waiting for a reply, he grabbed Hermione by the arm and wrenched her up. She had no choice but to follow him. As she left, she could hear Draco mumbling ominously,

"Well, that was the last we've seen of her, I'm sure."

Tom pulled her from the Great Hall and into the maze of Hogwarts' corridors. Hermione barely realized where he was dragging her. Her heart was stabbing her chest and her whole body trembled in fear. Tom didn't speak a word. His magic raged around him in a dark angry cloud, telling her of his violent temper.

Finally, Tom stopped. He wrenched open a door and pushed Hermione into the room behind. Ironically, it was Lupin's classroom. Of course the werewolf was no-where to be seen as he was still at the barracks. The trainings hall looked like always, if a bit empty.

Tom slammed the door shut and instantly sealed it with magic. Hermione swallowed nervously as she eyed the angry wizard. This was scarily reminiscent of the time she had been alone with him in the dungeons as he had cursed her with the Cruciatus.

"What are you doing?" Tom snarled at her.

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione replied, fighting to appear calm.

"How you behaved during potions was unacceptable," Tom snapped irately. "And what was that just now? Why are you acting up like this?"

Hermione felt incredibly shaky as she eyed the angry wizard. Like a dark shadow Tom towered over her, his angry eyes cutting into her. Her stomach knotted into a ball of fear. Nervously, Hermione worried her lower lip.

"Look, Tom," she said shakily. "I… I just think this is not working anymore."

Hectically, she gestured between the two of them. It only served to paint a dangerous scowl on Tom's face.

" _What_  are you talking about?"

Hermione gasped as a sharp pain exploded in her left forearm. Delicately, she rubbed it as she peered at Tom.

"The whole thing…" she repeated weakly. "It's just… not working?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tom demanded to know.

Hermione couldn't hold back anymore. Helplessly, the truth poured out of her, "I can't deal with this insecurity anymore. I don't know what to do. How to behave. The way you treat me, I just can't-"

"The way I treat you?" Tom scoffed incredulously. "This is ridiculous. You are  _my_  Mudblood. I can treat you however I want."

Despite her panic, Hermione's temper flared and she snapped heatedly, "Clearly, you want me to be more than just your Mudblood.  _You_  wanted me to come to Hogwarts.  _You_  told me to pose as a Pureblood."

"Maybe," Tom admitted testily. "It doesn't mean I'll allow you to act up like this."

"It doesn't work like that," Hermione shot at him, getting worked up. "You can't throw me into this situation and expect me to still behave like your servant."

A dangerous look on his face, Tom growled, "You  _are_  my servant. You are bound to me."

"Is that so?" Hermione sniped. "And how are you going to ensure my obedience?"

"Well, you're the expert," Tom said, his voice light but there was a sharp edge hidden underneath. "Tell me, what do Masters do with their disobedient Mudbloods?"

In trepidation, Hermione watched as Tom pulled his wand. He casually held it in his hand while he looked at her expectantly, fake smile distorting his features.

"I don't know,  _Tom_ ," she replied challengingly, trying to ignore her racing heart. "But I can tell you what they don't do." With that she whipped out her own wand. "They don't give them wands."

The casual behaviour dropped from Tom and the scornful smile disappeared. A dark glint entered his eyes and Hermione could feel his magic building up around him. As Tom spoke next, his voice was icy cold and sent unpleasant shivers down Hermione's spine,

"I advise you to drop the attitude or you leave me no choice but to punish you."

Hermione took in a sharp breath of air as she heard that threat. Memories of the Cruciatus Curse crashed over her and she was scared, really and truly scared of Tom and what he could do to her. His powerful magic saturated the air, raging around them both.

Hermione gritted her teeth and took one deep, steadying breath. The wand in her hand calmed her terrified thoughts and she dared to step out of her fear. Unwaveringly, she gazed into Tom's stormy eyes. Then Hermione raised her wand and slashed it through the air. A hex sprang from the tip of her wand. It glowed in a deep red as it dashed towards Tom. His eyes widened in surprise. Then his pale wand flashed and the hex was diverted from its course. Outrage and anger contorted Tom's handsome features.

"Did you just try to hex me?!"

"I did," Hermione whispered, voice firm. "If you want to hurt me, it won't be so easy this time."

With that she raised her wand and fell into her duelling stance. "I'm not going to just accept this situation anymore. If you don't stop with your abuse, I don't see any other option but to leave."

"I never mistreated you," Tom bit out, fury tightly wrapped around each word.

Hermione snorted. "You threw the  _Torture_  Curse at me!"

"You deserved that," the dark wizard hissed at her.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "How?"

"You were disrespectful and you wouldn't even admit to your misbehaviour." Tom's magic gave an angry budge and pressed painfully against Hermione's own. "By the way, you're very much mistaken if you think you could simply leave me."

With one angry push, Hermione drove his magic away from her person. "I  _can_  leave. Right now, I have half the mind to pull through with it."

"You think I will just let you go?" Tom's voice was quiet, but the malice cut relentlessly into Hermione.

_This is it_ , she thought as she eyed the dark wizard apprehensively. After this, she would at last have certainty and know where she stood with him. Scraping together what courage she could find, Hermione opened her mouth and challenged,

"You can try to stop me."

With that she threw another hex at him. Again, Tom batted it away with a flick of his wand. Hermione hadn't expected anything less. Now the ball was in his court.

Unfortunately, Tom did not hesitate long. Sinister glint blazing in his eyes, he slashed his wand through the air and Hermione was confronted with a curse flying her way. Quickly, she conjured a shield. The curse forcefully crashed into the bluish wall and Hermione stumbled a step back.

A sinister smirk curved Tom's lips and he warned, "You better stop this now before you get hurt. You can't win."

The dark look on his face was intimidating, but Hermione knew giving in to him was not an option anymore. Heart fluttering nervously in her chest, she summoned her magic. It flowed through her body and danced in the air around her. Tom's eyes darkened dangerously. He never released her from his hard gaze as he raised his wand, poised to attack. Hermione threw a curse at him. He elegantly twirled his wand, easily warding off the curse. His pale wand again danced through the air and a sickly yellow curse hurtled towards Hermione. Hastily, she erected a shield and winced slightly as Tom's curse slammed into it.

Then Hermione had no time to think anymore. Tom threw curse after curse at her, each one stronger than the one before. In rapid succession, she conjured shields and sent curses of her own after him. Never had Hermione duelled like this. Tom was fast and incredibly powerful. She realised that until now he had always held back when duelling with her. Only grim determination kept her on track as Hermione fought against the dark wizard. She simply couldn't give up.

With frustrating ease, Tom fended off her attacks while Hermione already struggled. Another dark curse detached itself from his wand and crashed into her shield, shredding it. Hermione was hurled away and crashed into the dais, that was usually used for duelling during Lupin's classes. She tried to get up as Tom attacked again. Hermione evaded his curse by throwing herself behind the dais. Tom's curse crashed into it, leaving behind deep cuts in the wooden panelling. Feeling dazed, Hermione cowered behind the dais.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Hermione," Tom laughed maliciously. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you're tired of our duel?"

Hermione didn't reply to his scorn. Cautiously, she peered at him. Instantly, Tom sent a curse at her. Hermione ducked and pressed her back against the dais' rear panel as the curse thundered over her head. Her breathing was fast and blood rushed in her ears. Tom was too powerful and Hermione didn't know what to do. She stiffened in fear as she heard him walking towards her position. He would get to her; he would curse her. What should she do?!

Helplessly, Hermione crouched behind the dais. Tom had almost reached her as her panicked gaze landed on a row of trainings dummies standing not far from her. Quickly making up her mind, Hermione waved her wand at the dummies. There was a sharp pull at her magic as the spell latched onto the wooden figures. They twisted and transformed. Long, spindly legs formed, attached to thick hairy bodies as each dummy was turned into a giant spider.

The Acromantulas completely ignored Hermione. Razor-sharp pincers shining with venom, the spiders charged at Tom. Hastily, he fired a few curses at the attacking spiders, but the creatures' thick skin easily brushed them away. One spider had already reached Tom. Fangs threateningly raised, it lunged at him. He jumped out of the way, only narrowly escaping the venomous pincers. The spider screeched furiously and attacked again.

Tom raised his hand, palm pointed to the attacking Acromantulas. Suddenly, the angry creatures ran into an invisible wall. They climbed over each other, furiously trying to get to Tom. Hand still raised, Tom's eyes flicked to Hermione. She tensed as a cruel smirk slipped on his face. Tom closed his hand, fingers curling into a fist. With that movement the spiders shrieked in agony. Hermione watched in sickened horror as the creatures shrivelled up and sickly green pus began to ooze from them. Like lumps of rotten flesh they fell to the floor and squirmed in the throes of death. Tom observed the creatures' horrible death and laughed.

Hermione was appalled by the display and angrily slashed her wand in a long arch through the air. The movement resulted in a shock wave. Bristling with raw magic, it rushed towards Tom who quickly erected a thick silvery shield. The shock wave crashed into the shield and shattered it. Tom was forced to drop into a crouch, the curse missing his head by mere inches.

Fury erupting on his face, Tom got up. Fiercely, he slid his wand through the air and attacked. Hermione struggled to defend herself as Tom's curses got increasingly darker. Desperately, she gasped for air as there was a reprieve in this onslaught of curses. Tom's magic crackled in the air with a static hum, but Hermione could feel how he now seemed to draw it back. Warily, she watched how his dark magic condensed around the tip of his wand. A menacing look distorted his handsome features as Tom waved his wand in a complicated set of movements. Ice crystals appeared in a circle around him on the stone floor, painting it with a frosty mosaic. With a final movement, Tom pointed his wand at Hermione and spoke the incantation,

"Boreas."

The frost instantly obeyed him. The diffuse pattern of ice changed direction and rapidly spread, aiming directly for Hermione. The cold was so extreme, the stone floor cracked open at places. One of the was still alive Acromantulas and now tried crawl away from the frost. It was too slow. In horror Hermione watched as the ice crashed into the legs of the spider. Upon contact, the tissue died. Like glass the spider's legs shattered and the creature fell, frozen into place.

Ice crystals rained from the air as the coldness got closer to Hermione. Quickly, she waved her wand and a domed shield surrounded her. A heartbeat later, the frost crashed into the boundaries of her shield and within seconds covered it completely. Terrified, Hermione noticed how the temperature inside dropped rapidly. Already, she could see her own breath in a white cloud. The absolute cold raged outside and she knew she would freeze to death in a matter of seconds, should her shield fall. Hermione cried out in shock as a curse slammed into her shield, drawing immensely at her magic.

In disbelief, she stared at Tom.

A sadistic look on his face, he threw another curse at her already weakened shield and it flickered dangerously. Hermione shivered violently. Frantically, she sifted through her memories. There had to be a counter spell. Rolls of parchment and countless books flipped by in her mind's eye. She must have seen it somewhere. Mercilessly, the cold cut into Hermione's body and her shield groaned as it slowly surrendered to Tom's brutal attacks. What was the counter spell?!

It was then that a short paragraph of text flickered through Hermione's mind. Her eyes sprang open. Frost covered everything. Her hair, her clothes and skin. Hermione ignored it and twirled her wand in a complex pattern. The draw on her magic was so strong, it sent spikes of pain through her body. Hermione sagged to her knees. Black dots danced in her vision as she frantically tried to complete the curse. Aiming her wand at Tom, Hermione whispered,

"Notus."

The spell burst from her wand towards Tom. Hermione's hand shook so heavily, she needed her other one as well to keep the wand steady. A storm of hot air raged through the whole trainings hall. Viciously, it forced the ice away. Hermione knelt in the eye of the storm, untouched, while the rest of the room was wrecked. Tom's eyes widen in shock and he barely managed to protect himself. Even through his strong shield, Hermione's storm tugged at him, threatening to carry him away.

As soon as the ice and frost had completely left the hall, Hermione's arm fell to her side and her storm broke down. Her whole body trembled in exhaustion. Shakily, she picked herself up from the floor. By now, the surprise had left Tom's face and he glared at her murderously. Hermione stared back at him anxiously. Her magic had curled up in a weak mess.

Despite her state, Tom did not show any mercy. He brandished his wand and suddenly Hermione was exposed to a barrage of curses. Tom's wand was a blur as he slashed it through the air. Hermione raised a shield. The dark curses were incredibly powerful as they pelted on her defensive magic. Desperately, Hermione pointed her wand at her shield, feeding it more of her magic. Tom's brutal assault did not stop and she could feel cracks and fissures in her shield growing. The constant draw on her magic was incredibly strong and it wasn't long that her shield flickered and died.

Tom didn't stop his attack. Already another curse flew at her. Feeling shaky and drained, Hermione weakly brandished her wand. Her magic only sluggishly obeyed and turned into a half-formed shield. With incredible force Tom's curse crashed into her shield. It shattered upon contact and Hermione had to throw herself out of the curse's way. She cried in pain as she slammed into the floor. Her wand slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

Her breathing was fast and laboured as Hermione looked up at Tom. His pale wand was threateningly pointed at her and she shuddered at the murderous look on his face. Despite Hermione being defenceless, Tom flicked his wand at her. She hissed in pain as she felt stands of his dark magic wrapping around her so tightly, she could barely breathe.

Fury raging in Tom's eyes, he brought his wand up and Hermione's body was hoisted in the air. Another sharp slash of his wand and she was flung away like a ragdoll. Brutally, Hermione crashed into the wall. She cried out as her head knocked into the stone wall. Then she crumbled to the floor where she curled up into a painful ball.

Helplessly, Hermione watched as Tom strode over to her, fury burning in his eyes. She pressed her body into the wall behind her as he towered over her. His face was unreadable. Only his eyes smouldered threateningly as they wandered over her.

"Hermione."

He spoke her name softly, almost gently. Yet his voice made ice cold chills darting down her spine.

"What am I supposed to do with you now?"

There was a menacing tint in his voice that made Hermione whimper softly. Her wand was gone, she was defenceless, and she knew perfectly well what he would do to her. Abruptly Tom squatted down in front of her. Hermione flinched away from him. He didn't care for her obvious distress at all. Instead, Tom raised a hand and lightly skimmed his fingers over her cheek.

"What do  _you_  think I should do with you?" he asked, hard steel hidden behind his warm tone.

Hermione trembled all over. Her whole body hurt and her head throbbed agonizingly where she had been knocked into the wall. Tom's magic was all over the place. While his face was free of any emotion, his magic was not. Furiously it crackled in the air, ripping at Hermione and slicing over her skin. Indeed, what should he do with her? A mirthless laugh escaped her.

"I hear that, me being a Mudblood, you can do with me whatever you want. Master."

Immediately, rage twisted up Tom's face. His magic stormed around him, wrenching brutally at her.

"Shut up!" he yelled at her.

He stood up and for a moment towered threateningly over her as if considering to lash out at her. Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. A frustrated growl left him, then Tom started to pace in front of her.

"Get up," he ordered sharply.

Hermione's heart sank. Would he really pull through with it? Why even bother standing up if his Cruciatus would bring her to her knees anyway? Hermione wondered glumly. Still, with difficulty she fought to get up and leaned against the wall.

"We both know what I  _should_  do," Tom hissed at her darkly.

His threat hung in the air and Hermione could feel her stomach twist painfully. A heavy sadness wrapped tightly around her, suffocating her. It even managed to drown her fear and left her feeling completely hopeless.

"If it pleases you, Master," Hermione replied, voice empty and hollow.

She gasped as fingers grabbed her chin and gruffly tilted her face so she had to look at Tom. Hermione winced under his painfully tight grip.

"I told you to call me 'Tom'," he said coldly.

"Does it really matter?" she replied hoarsely, too tired to play any games with him.

Tom abruptly let go of her, making her stagger. Hermione looked up at him, feeling utterly despondent. Lupin had been wrong after all…

"Didn't I give you everything?" Tom bit out, tone hard as stone. "I took you away from the Malfoys. I let you go to Hogwarts. Is this how you repay me?"

Hermione shook her head. It all really didn't matter anymore. He would curse her anyway.

"Maybe you should have left me there."

"Really?" Tom scoffed scathingly.

Hermione gazed at him. "I don't see the difference anymore."

"I should show you the difference," Tom threatened cruelly.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath of air but did not reply. Tom's wand was still in his hand as he eyed Hermione irately. She pressed herself against the wall and braced herself for the curse that would hit her.

"What are you planning?" Tom demanded to know sharply. "Why the sudden recalcitrance? What are you trying to prove?"

Hermione was still pressed against the wall and gazed at the angry Slytherin. Tom's magic stormed around him and his unforgiving eyes bored into her. Hermione didn't reply. It was no use anymore. As no answer came, Tom raised a hand and angrily gestured at the blood running down the side of her face.

"Is this what you wanted?" Cruel scorn wound around his words. "Because you could have got that easier."

Sadness cruelly cut into Hermione. She knew he would curse her. His magic already viciously ripped at her, eager to punish her.

"No… That's not what I wanted," she whispered, tired of making up false pretences.

Hermione peered up at Tom. Why didn't he just curse her? Did he enjoy playing around with her?

"Then what  _do_  you want?"

Voice dull and heavy with sadness, Hermione replied, "I don't want anything, Master."

"Your smart mouth will not save you," Tom snarled at her dangerously. "Maybe it's time to start begging."

He glared at her, jaw clenched angrily. Despite his words, though, he didn't raise his wand at her. Hermione blinked up at him, confused, and slowly realization sank in.

Tom hadn't yet cursed her.

Hermione looked up at his angry face. Despite all the threats, Tom didn't curse her. She was defenceless, wandless. He could easily hurt her. Still, Tom didn't raise his wand.

"I won't put up with this anymore," he instead threw at her.

Hermione stared at him, a tiny hint of hope growing. Cautiously, she pushed herself away from the wall and took a hesitant step towards Tom. He glowered at her warily.

"I…" Hermione felt shaky as she whispered the truth, "I don't want to be your servant anymore."

A flush of his irate magic crashed over her, making Hermione gasp for air. Tom brutally grabbed her by the arm and shook her.

"I told you, I will never let you leave me," he snarled so venomously it made her cringe.

Worrying her lip, Hermione looked up into those frosty blue eyes. Then she replied, forcing calm into her voice,

"You don't understand." Unwaveringly, she gazed into his eyes and repeated, enunciating each word very clearly, "I don't want to be your servant anymore."

Tom's fingers released their tight grip on her. For a moment he scanned her, his face an unreadable mask. Then he decided,

"Hermione, you're  _mine_."

She raised her eyebrows at him. Cautiously, she reached out for him and her fingers curled around his wrist.

"I…" she said softly. "I  _do_  know that you saved me from the Malfoys and I really am grateful. But I'm in this school, I see all these wonderful things and I just want to be part of it. Don't you understand? I don't want to be scared anymore."

"There is no need for you to be scared of me," Tom said, irritation in his voice.

Hermione shook her head. "There is. Two weeks ago you threw the Cruciatus Curse at me just because I  _talked back_  to you."

"You can't run away from me," Tom insisted stubbornly, eyes glinting with anger.

"I don't…" Hermione hesitated and frowned at him. "Why do you think I would run?"

Tom didn't reply, but simply glared at her, eyes sealed off and cold. Hermione didn't avoid his hard gaze.

"I'm not running," she told him, still holding him by the wrist.

He still wouldn't say anything and Hermione didn't want to coax and beguile him anymore. Her fingers slipped from him and as she spoke next her voice was hard as stone,

"You have to make a choice, Tom."

A small frown appeared between his eyebrows and he inquired tightly, "What do you mean?"

"I can't continue like this," she said decisively. "You have to choose. Either I am Penny or Hermione. You can't have them both."

Hermione stared up into those frosty blue eyes. And if Tom wanted her to be nothing but Penny the slave girl? Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to bear that. Maybe she really would have to run. She balled her hands into tight fists. For a long agonizing moment, Tom said nothing and just gazed at her.

Then he abruptly stepped closer. There was a hand on her shoulder and Hermione gasped softly as she was almost violently pulled against Tom's chest. He held her tightly, almost painfully so. Hermione held completely still only her eyes blinked rapidly. What did this mean…?

"I'll try," Tom's deep voice whispered. "…Hermione."

Hermione released a long breath of air and, finally, she could relax against his chest. Slowly, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his waist to hug him against her.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **You thought her but a simple maid**  


**That roamed the mountain-side;**

**She put the witch's glance on you,**

**And so became your bride.'**

**\- Dora Sigerson Shorter**

  
**(*1866** **† 1918)**   



	24. Shadowy Lips

Tom stared at the girl by his side, not knowing what to make of this situation. Currently, they were sitting by the Great Lake. Hermione busied herself with throwing pieces of bread into the water to feed the ducks that greedily fished for the crumbs. A happy smile curled her lips as she watched the birds. Hermione hadn't smiled or even slightly relaxed in his presence for a long time, actually, ever since he had thrown the Torture Curse at her.

"Here"

Tom blinked at the crumbs of bread Hermione was offering him. Her smile even widened as she spotted the confusion on his face.

"You have to feed them, too."

Instantly, Tom glowered at the offending bread and then at Hermione. "Certainly not."

Hermione simply laughed at his sharp reply. Another change, Tom noted. Despite him being annoyed, she didn't seem to care overly much and cheerfully continued to feed the ducks. The shift in their relationship couldn't be more obvious. The Mudblood seemed to have shed her fear of him. Tom counted that as a win. During the last few days, he had learned that Hermione's loyalty – unlike his Knights' – could not be ensured by making her fear him. It only made her antagonize him.

Nevertheless, Hermione's rebellious behaviour – which had culminated in their duel yesterday – still displeased Tom. Hermione was  _his_  Mudblood and had had no right to force that ridiculous choice on him.  _Hermione or Penny, Fake Pureblood or Mudblood slave._

It had never been a real choice. Tom had been  _forced_  to release her.  _At least for now…_ What was his alternative? If Tom had chosen Penny, the Mudblood would have failed to maintain the act of 'Hermione Rookwood'. After all she had already struggled these past days. She would have completely reverted back to Penny, the slave girl, and stopped taking Polyjuice.

The problem was, Tom could  _not_  be associated with Penny. Not after Umbridge had seen her face. The theft of Slytherin's Locket would have caught up with him. No, if Tom wanted to keep Hermione and her impressive magic, she needed to stay disguised as Hermione Rookwood.

He glanced at the girl in question. By now Hermione had exhausted her stock of bread crumbs and the ducks slowly paddled away.

"Tom?" Her dark brown eyes wandered to him and scanned him searchingly. "You know, I've been thinking… and… I'm not going to quit DADA."

Tom's immediate reaction was to snap at her. Already his magic bristled in anger. Before he opened his mouth, though, he spotted a guarded look on her face. Her body was tense, as if bracing herself for something. Hermione was testing him, wasn't she? Tom knew he couldn't slip up. Not so soon after his promise. It would only serve to distance her from him again. With force, Tom pulled his incensed magic back and hid it away where it could not touch the bond that chained Hermione to him.

"I'm not very happy with that," he replied in a tightly controlled voice. "But if that's what you wish, I suppose it's your decision."

His forced admission was rewarded by the smile slipping back on Hermione's face. She slid closer to him on the grassy ground. Tom tensed as she cautiously leaned into his side. After his initial surprise, he quickly used his chance and draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer. Hermione didn't seem to mind.

Tom wasn't sure if he might be going too far too soon, but he raised a hand, put two fingers under her chin and gently tilted her head up. Hermione blinked up at him, a wary expression crossing her face. There was no fear, though, nor any signs that she would try to run again. Slowly, Tom bent down to her. As she still didn't flinch away, he pressed his lips over hers. A shudder ran through her body, but she didn't pull away. Tom took that as an invitation and moved his lips against hers. Gingerly, he nibbled at her fat lower lip. A wave of hot desire shot through Tom as Hermione's lips moved under his, tentatively returning the kiss. He instantly wanted to push her down on the ground and rip her clothes from her body. He didn't care at all that they might be seen from the castle; his body demanded to take her right here. He held himself back, though. For now, he didn't even deepen the kiss.

After a moment, he reluctantly ended the kiss. Hermione looked up at him, her enticing lips swollen and red. Tom breathed in deeply, trying to control himself. A smile curled Hermione's mouth. Then she nestled closer against him and laid her head against his chest.

And Tom was content in knowing that she was still his.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The day after her duel with Tom, Hermione felt ridiculously happy. After all this time of living in fear and uncertainty, it was as if all colours had flowed back into her life, painting her world in vivid shades. Hermione was in high spirits as she entered the DADA classroom. Her smile widened as she spotted Lupin, preparing the trainings hall for his next class. It was the first time since her trip to the barracks that she saw the werewolf.

Upon her entry, Lupin looked up. He grinned as he recognized her. "Hermione. Early again, I see."

She nodded, smiling at him brightly. "I had nothing better to do."

"Well, it's nice to be appreciated," Lupin replied dryly.

A blush coloured Hermione's cheeks. "That's not how I meant it. I really like talking with you."

Lupin laughed good-naturedly. Then he cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, scanning Hermione through his yellow eyes. "So…? What happened with you and your crazy boyfriend?"

"Everything's fine," Hermione told her teacher happily. "Tom and me, we talked. And now, we're fine."

"Uh-hu," said Lupin sceptically. "Because Riddle's such an understanding person."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She was still surprised herself that everything had worked out.

"You're alright, though?" the werewolf asked, concern having replaced the sarcasm in his voice. "After he dragged you from the barracks, Riddle didn't hurt you, did he? I know this is a difficult situation for you, but if it's too much… I just need to tell Sirius; he can get you out of here. We can hide you. It's rea-"

"No." Hermione smiled at him and shook her head. "I'm fine. Really. Tom didn't hurt me." At Lupin's doubtful look, she admitted, "Okay. He  _was_  angry. But he got over it."

Lupin cocked an eyebrow. "And how exactly did he 'get over it'?"

There was still worry visible all over the man's face and Hermione knew he was probably imagining all kinds of scenarios of Tom cursing her. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. As Lupin furrowed his brow, she grinned up at him.

"I actually followed your advice."

"My advice…?" he echoed in confusion.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. You told me to curse Tom."

Lupin's eyes widened in surprise. "You did what?"

Chuckling slightly, Hermione gestured at the wall of the trainings hall. There was a deep crack, the surrounding stone blackened.

"We duelled," she told Lupin amusedly.

"Shit." Lupin stared at the damage in the wall. "I  _did_  wonder where that came from." He eyed Hermione shrewdly. "You duelled Riddle?"

She nodded proudly and a big grin appeared on the werewolf's face. Lupin barked out a laugh and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Good for you. See? You should always follow a teacher's advice."

Hermione beamed at him and teased, "Lucky shot."

"Oi," Lupin exclaimed in mock outrage. "Don't get smart with me."

He excitedly twirled his wand through the air and the trainings dummies arranged themselves in a neat row. A grin revealed his sharp teeth and Lupin asked,

"So? Who'd win?"

Hermione fiddled with her wand and admitted meekly, "Tom."

"A pity." Lupin looked like he had bitten into a lemon, but then soothed, "Well, you can say about Riddle what you want, but he  _is_  a skilled duellist. It's no shame losing against him. You're a beginner anyway."

Hermione still nervously nestled with her wand as she peered at Lupin. The werewolf blinked at her, his brow slowly knitting in worry.

"What did he do after the duel?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Nothing," Hermione said cautiously. "I told him I didn't want to be a servant anymore. And Tom accepted it."

"Just like that?" Lupin looked at her dubiously.

Hermione shrugged, the smile working its way back on her face. "Well, there was a bit of yelling involved, but in the end he accepted it."

"Wow." Lupin scratched his head. "I guess I misjudged Riddle."

"I doubt that," Hermione deadpanned.

"Still," the werewolf said seriously. "It's really good you have him in your corner." He peered at her. "You haven't told anyone else that you're Muggleborn, have you?"

Quickly Hermione shook her head. Lupin nodded, "Good. Don't tell anyone. Not even your friends. It's too dangerous."

"I know," Hermione said meekly.

Lupin smiled at her softly and wrapped an arm around her. "Don't worry too much, okay? What you're doing is exceptional. It might be dangerous, but you have friends. Sirius and I can help you if this goes tits up. The Order's there for you, whether you choose to fight with us or not."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, feeling a lot better.

Lupin smiled at her. Before he could add anything, though, his yellow eyes wandered to the door as if he had heard something.

"Time to put my amazing teaching skills to good use," he said, grinning widely.

He opened the door with a flick of his wand. Slowly, the students filed into the room. Hermione smiled slightly as she spotted Tom among them and waved at him. His gaze landed on her and a dark look crossed his features as he saw Lupin beside her. Seeing the fat scowl on Tom's face, Lupin commented sardonically,

"Oh, look. There's your Prince Charming."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the werewolf and skipped over to Tom.

†

Why did Hermione look so happy? Carefree even. It confused Regulus. He would have expected something different. Fear. Panic. Despair? Indeed, he would have been far less confused if he had seen Hermione cower away from Riddle in terror.

"Seems like Rookwood is still standing," Malfoy voiced as he watched the girl walking over to Riddle.

Regulus and the other Knights stood a bit away from Riddle, observing their leader and his girlfriend like hawks.

"She looks alright." Rosier contemplated as he ogled the girl.

Hermione really did seem fine. Regulus had been quite concerned about her wellbeing since that spectacle in the Great Hall yesterday. He didn't know what drove Hermione to dare insult Riddle like that, but it had been incredibly scary to watch the dark wizard brutally wrench her out of the hall. There had been no question among the Knights that Riddle would severely punish her. For a while Regulus had feared Hermione would simply 'go missing'. Luckily, that hadn't happened and the girl was surprisingly uninjured today. Right now, she even  _smiled_  at Riddle as she talked with him. It left Regulus confused. He was not alone, though. The other Knights eyed the Gryffindor with equal puzzlement.

"Maybe he obliviated her," Dolohov speculated.

Rosier shrugged, unconvinced. "Possible."

"Memory potion?" Bellatrix suggested darkly.

"But she's not hurt at all…" Dolohov shook his head in confusion. "Not even a bruise or anything."

"Probably a Glamour," Malfoy remarked casually.

The blond watched Hermione with feigned disinterest while Bellatrix openly twirled her wand through her fingers. She poked it into Malfoy's side and asked, mad smile pulling at her lips,

"What do you think, Draco? Is she fair game now?"

"Watch where you put that!" Malfoy swatted her wand away from him, looking slightly panicked.

Regulus ignored the other Knights and watched in trepidation how Riddle put his hands on Hermione's waist and pulled her closer. She didn't flinch away from the intimate contact, not even as Riddle bent down and placed a possessive kiss on the girl's cheek. Regulus felt sick as he recognized this gesture for what it really was: a display of ownership. Despite the incident in the Great Hall, the girl obviously still belonged to Riddle. Bellatrix sulked darkly and stuffed her wand into her robe pocket, clearly disappointed by this course of events.

Riddle released Hermione from his tight grip, but the girl still didn't step away. Regulus watched her closely. Surprisingly there were no traces of discomfort in her body language. Hermione brown eyes then fell on the Knights. Smiling amicably she walked over to them while Riddle trailed behind. Regulus forced a shaky smile on his face.

"Hi," Hermione greeted.

"Hermione. Good to see you," Regulus replied politely.

He tried to ignore the dark wizard hovering around the girl, but the cold look on Riddle's face made him shudder. Hermione's carefree attitude was a mystery.

"Yes, really good to see you," Dolohov contributed, suave smile not quite hiding his apparent curiosity. "Quite a surprise, too."

Instantly, a dangerous look crossed Riddle's features. His voice was perfectly controlled as he inquired, "Pray tell, why is this so surprising?"

Dolohov spluttered nervously, "N- no idea. I guess, I wasn't thin-"

"Please, Dolohov," Bellatrix sneered disdainfully, rolling her eyes. "Spare us." Then she glanced at Riddle. "If you must know, it's a surprise that you're still not tired of her."

Riddle glared murderously at Bellatrix and Regulus was impressed as she glared back without batting an eye. Trying to defuse the tense situation, Hermione cleared her throat and turned to Regulus.

"I found a book on the runes we went over in Wenlock's class last week. I can show it to you later. It's really good."

"Er… Sure," Regulus stuttered. "That'd be great."

Instantly, Riddle's face darkened. He abandoned Bellatrix and directed his icy glare at Hermione. The girl was unperturbed by the sinister look and even raised her eyebrows in question.

"You don't have time for that," Riddle rebuked her sternly. "I told you, you have detention today,"

"Can't you just take it back?" Hermione mumbled sullenly.

"It's your own fault," Riddle scorned, smirking viciously. "Shouldn't have skipped class"

A big scowl appeared on Hermione's face. Regulus sucked in a sharp breath of air as she raised a hand and slapped Riddle's arm.

"It  _wasn't_  my fault," Hermione insisted stubbornly. "I blame you."

Fear clenching his stomach, Regulus stared at Riddle. Through the corners of his eyes he saw Dolohov tense while a malicious smirk appeared on Bellatrix' face. Despite Hermione's impudent behaviour, Riddle seemed more amused than anything else and smirked at the girl. Regulus was relieved, but also completely baffled. Why did Riddle continue to tolerate her insolence?

They were interrupted as Lupin barked, "Let's get down to business, people. Everybody, get yourself a trainings dummy. Today we'll learn the Vulnus Curse."

Hermione's brow furrowed in contemplation. "I don't think I know how to cast it." She peered at Riddle. "Do  _you_  know the curse?" She didn't leave him time to reply, but grabbed Riddle by the hand and decided, "You have to come to the Gryffindor side this time. Please. I'm not sure about the wand movements."

Apprehensively, Regulus watched as Hermione tugged at Riddle's hand. Once again, the dark wizard didn't take offence, though he scoffed harshly,

"What? Don't you think the werewolf would  _love_  to give you private coaching?"

Surprisingly, Riddle still allowed the girl to pull him away. Confused frown knitting his brow, Regulus watched the couple. It was Dolohov who voiced what they were all thinking,

"Does anyone know what the hell is going on?"

"Nope," Rosier commented faintly. "Not a clue."

"Frankly," Draco said. "I'm still surprised to see her  _alive_."

"Maybe we've got it all wrong, and it was actually  _her_  obliviating  _him_ ," Dolohov quipped weakly.

Instantly, a dangerous look darkened Bellatrix' features. "Watch what you say. No-one can curse Tom."

Regulus grudgingly agreed, but that still didn't explain Riddle's lenient behaviour towards Hermione. He could only hope she wouldn't fall prey to one of the dark wizard's sinister machinations.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Sometimes, Hermione could see a dark shadow flittering through Tom's eyes. He was still very domineering and he certainly tried to order her around now and then. If Hermione didn't do what he wanted, Tom would get angry. On one of those occasions, he had even yelled at her.

The strange thing was, Hermione didn't really mind. Of course, she would get upset with Tom from time to time. There was one thing, though, that she wasn't anymore: Afraid of him. That lost duel against him had changed a lot. Tom had been so incredibly angry back then and yet hadn't seriously hurt her. His reluctance to harm her provided Hermione with a new-found feeling of security. Maybe his promise to treat her like an equal was still a shaky one, but Hermione had decided to give the whole thing a chance.

"It's gonna be fun," Hermione assured, smiling up at Tom. "I promise."

Holding his hand in her own, she tugged him out of Hogwarts' castle and into the night. Tom followed, morose expression on his face.

"You  _do_  realize I'm Head Boy, don't you?" he griped. "I can't just sneak out after curfew."

"It's not after curfew."

"Yet," he pointed out ominously. "How does it look when the Head Boy goes around and breaks every school rule?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, sarcasm bending her words, "Yes, I'm pretty sure you never break any rules."

Despite his displeasure, a traitorous smirk twisted Tom's mouth and he assured histrionically, "I wouldn't be Head Boy otherwise. I'm just doing this for you."

Hermione dropped the taunt and smiled at him warmly. "I know. Thank you."

†

"Ah, that's the stuff," Ginny said, grinning widely. She accepted a cup of Firewhiskey from her boyfriend and placed a sloppy kiss on Dean's lips. "I love you."

Dean beamed at her and eagerly returned the kiss. "Love you, too."

Ron, who sat beside Seamus on the trunk of a fallen tree, pulled a face.

"Urg." He faked gagging noises. "I'm getting sick here."

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny drawled.

She stretched her legs lazily and leaned into Dean's side. Her head sagged against his shoulder and she looked up at the sky. It really was a beautiful night, stars twinkling down at them.

"Man, I wonder what McGonagall would do when she could see us now," Ron mused as he lazily waved his wand at their campfire.

The orange flames burned a bit higher and crackled cheerfully, driving away the night and radiating a pleasant warmth. Ginny took a swig from her Firewhiskey and shrugged, feeling too comfortable to worry about any possible detentions.

"Better not find out," Seamus said with a dazed grin, a whole bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand.

"Pff, no-one's gonna catch us," Dean reassured and wrapped an arm around Ginny.

She was inclined to agree. With a rather large stock of spirits, they had snuck out of the castle and had made their way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Their little camp was hidden behind the trees and Ginny had even cast a few Secrecy Charms over the place.

"Yeah, Ron," Ginny drawled. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Her brother scowled at her and she smirked in return. Before he could open his mouth and throw something in return, though, they heard a twig cracking near-by. They all startled, eyes flying to the source of the noise. Ginny's tension quickly fell from her as she spotted Hermione stepping from behind one of the trees. A happy smile appeared on Ginny's face. Sadly, that smile quickly died as she spotted the person behind Hermione. Immediately, Ginny scrunched up her face in distaste. Why in Merlin's name had Hermione brought Riddle?

Hermione stepped over to them and smiled good-naturedly. "Hello. Sorry, we're a bit late."

Meanwhile, the Slytherin hanging from her side scanned them with a condescending air. Ginny's hand tightened angrily around her cup.

"Hermione," she greeted, throwing her friend a sincere smile. "I'm glad you made it." Then all kindness drained from her voice and she said icily, "Riddle."

The Slytherin looked at her, arrogant glint in his frosty eyes, and inclined his head.

"Ms Weasley," Riddle returned the greeting with equal aversion.

"I hope you don't mind," Hermione said, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "that I brought Tom."

Ginny bit on her tongue, holding back a sharp comment. She really didn't want to upset Hermione. Luckily, Seamus butted in,

"No. That's no problem. The more the merrier."

Ginny cringed at the fake enthusiasm in his voice. Obviously, her friends weren't thrilled about the Head Boy's presence either. Ron looked as if he had smelled something repugnant. At least, he tried to hide it behind a twitchy smile for Hermione.

"Oh boy, this is gonna be fun," Ginny heard Dean whisper sarcastically.

"Sh." She gently boxed him in the side.

Tugging at Riddle's hand, Hermione told him, "Come on."

Reluctantly, Riddle sat down beside his girlfriend and joined the group of Gryffindors. Ron, still bravely trying to hide his obvious dislike for the Head Boy, handed Hermione two cups.

"What do you want to drink? Let's see… We have beer, Firewhiskey, Butterbeer… Firewhiskey."

"Thanks," Hermione said and accepted the cups. "Er… Can I have Butterbeer?" She peered up at Riddle. "You too?"

He nodded imperiously and Ginny angrily gulped down her Firewhiskey. Through slitted eyes, she watched the Head Boy. Hermione handed him a cup of Butterbeer and, without thanking her, Riddle accepted it with a barely veiled look of disgust.

Ginny was not happy at all that Hermione and Riddle had made up again. Of course, she had noticed how their relationship had started to crumble. She had felt like a horrible friend, but Ginny had secretly been thrilled. Hermione deserved better than Riddle. Unfortunately, since the last few days, their relationship seemed to have recovered. Hermione didn't hide away in her dorm anymore, but spent time with Riddle. Ginny didn't like it at all. Of course, she was happy that Hermione wasn't so miserable anymore. She just didn't like the reason for the sudden elation.

Morosely, she eyed the couple. Riddle delicately sipped from his Butterbeer while he managed to ignore the Gryffindors around him and looked quite snooty. Hermione animatedly talked with Ron and Seamus. Disgruntled, Ginny noticed how the girl held Riddle's hand and she wished she could just pull Hermione away.

Riddle flicked his gaze at Ginny. His empty eyes locked with hers and, seeing her annoyance, Riddle raised a mocking eyebrow. Ginny's hands balled into fists as his lips twisted into a triumphant smirk. Then she had to watch how he pulled Hermione closer to him and, still with that malevolent smirk in place, ran a possessive hand through her curly hair. By now Ginny was seething with anger. Only Dean's voice stopped her from throwing herself at the Slytherin and punching him in the face.

"How 'bout a scary story?" Dean exclaimed loudly, slurring in his drunken state.

"That's a good idea." Ginny pasted a fake smile on her face. The happy tint in her voice was rather well done as she said, "Now that we have a Slytherin here, I think Riddle should start. Hm? How about a story about the Heir of Slytherin?"

Her smile sharpened as she spotted the cold anger flaring up behind Riddle's lifeless blue eyes. His face, though, as usual gave nothing away of his thoughts. Everything was expertly hidden away behind a wall of amicability. Ginny once again wondered how Hermione could not see the cruelty covered by only a thin layer of lies.

"Now, Ms Weasley," Riddle chided, deep voice collected and disturbingly polite. "I don't think that is a topic to be so casually discussed."

In faux confusion, Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Oh? I thought the heir was just a myth. Are you suggesting there is more behind this?"

Riddle smiled at her kindly and she felt the strong urge to rip that mask from him. Maintaining his suave front, the Slytherin replied,

"I'm not suggesting anything. I was merely saying we shouldn't spoil a nice evening with such a dreary story."

Before Ginny could retort anything, Seamus blurted drunkenly, "Here. Me. I know a story. It happened to a friend of my cousin."

And on he went about how that friend had been ambushed by a group of Dementors while on a hiking trip in Wales. Ginny wasn't really listening. Eyes blazing with anger, she stared at Riddle who glared back at her with equal animosity.

†

Merlin, this was tedious. Tom sipped at his Firewhiskey –  _served in a cup of all things!_  – and wished he had declined Hermione's invitation. He really didn't know what had got into him as he had accepted. Feeling more than irritated, he watched the Gryffindors. They hunched around the campfire like a couple of cavemen, laughing boisterously while indulging in way too much alcohol. Was this the company Hermione liked to keep? He glanced at the girl through the corners of his eyes. Cup in hand, Hermione chatted with the Weasley boy and Finnigan. Oh, how Tom wished he could just grab the Mudblood and pull her away.

At least no-one tried to talk to him. They were obviously as displeased by Tom's presence as he himself was. Ah well, he supposed that was the only upside to this tiring event. Tom smirked at the sour look on Ginny Weasley's face.

"I'm really glad you came tonight," a voice whispered to him.

Hermione had abandoned her conversation with the Gryffindors and smiled at Tom fondly. The slight curl of her plump lips was distracting, but he still managed an abrasive reply,

"I really don't know why you had to drag me here."

"Don't be like this," Hermione chided softly and wrapped an arm around him. "You just have to get to know each other and then you'll all get along."

Tom had to suppress a sarcastic snort at that.

"If you try to behave," she said, beaming up at him. "I promise I'll be nice to your spooky friends as well. Even Bellatrix."

Tom merely rolled his eyes at her. At least his participation in this event would help assure Hermione that he indeed accepted her ludicrous wish for independence.

.

Ginny threw furtive looks at the couple. Hermione had wrapped an arm around Riddle and pressed herself against his side. Happy smile in place, she leaned her head against his shoulder and held his hand in hers. Ginny gritted her teeth in anger as she saw the warmth behind Hermione's action and how Riddle didn't even try to return the affectionate gesture. Rigidly, he sat beside his girlfriend and haughtily tolerated Hermione's caress as if he couldn't be bothered to react in any way. With growing irritation, Ginny watched as Hermione stretched her neck and placed a careful kiss on Riddle's jaw and he still didn't respond at all. There was not even a hint of affection visible on his cold face.

Hermione didn't seem to mind overly much. Still smiling, she reached for a pack of biscuits, trying to save them as someone had thrown them dangerously close to the fire. Hermione winced as the flames licked at her hand.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked worriedly.

Hermione nodded, smiling at her. "It's nothing."

Ginny furrowed her brow doubtfully as she could already see a red spot taking form on the skin. Still Hermione insisted,

"I'm fine."

"You're lucky," Ron declared, eyes glassy by now. "I know a good healing spell."

He groped for his wand and Ginny was glad as Seamus stopped him. "Since when do  _you_  know any healing magic? 's probably more humane to just cut off her hand before you do any magic."

Of course, Ron took offence. Waving his wand impressively – though no magic came forth – he exclaimed, "I'll have you know, I'm quite good at healing magic."

"Really?" Seamus cocked a sceptical eyebrow. "Name one spell, then."

Ron spluttered and his wand sunk back to his side as he searched for words.

"Drawing a blank, eh?" Dean needled.

Ginny shook her head at her brother's antics and Dean laughed. While the boys continued to argue, Ginny peered at Riddle and Hermione through the corners of her eyes. Riddle had taken Hermione's burned hand in his own and observed the now angrily red spot on her skin. He shook his head and commented rudely,

"You're a klutz."

Ginny inhaled sharply and held her breath, fighting the need to yell at the Slytherin.

"I'm not." Hermione didn't seem to be upset by her boyfriend's callous behaviour. "It was an accident."

Riddle shrugged, seemingly not caring either way. With indifferent eyes, he scanned the burn on Hermione's skin, turning her hand this way and that. Ginny felt anger boiling up in her. She knew what a horrible swot Riddle was and she was pretty sure the little pest knew quite a few healing spells. Yet, he did nothing to help Hermione. Even worse, he poked her irritated skin with his index finger, smirk on his face.

"Stop that." Hermione pulled her hand away from him and reached for her wand.

Ginny watched in fascination, and a tiny bit of envy, as Hermione gracefully brandished her wand. Her powerful magic crackled in the air and instantly healed her burnt hand. As usual, the spell had been perfectly executed, even non-verbal. Ginny had always known how incredibly talented Hermione was. Riddle, though, only sniffed dismissively.

"Episkey?" he scoffed. "Really?"

Hermione wriggled her fingers, the skin again unblemished on her hand. "It worked, didn't it?"

"That's a second year spell," Riddle scorned derisively.

It was not. Ginny irately glared at the Slytherin. Most healing magic wasn't even taught at Hogwarts. Of course, Hermione wouldn't know, being a transfer.

"Really?" Hermione inquired, eyes wide as she looked up at Riddle.

Dimly, Ginny noticed that by now the boys had concluded their little argument and started a Quidditch discussion. Ginny contributed half-heartedly, still paying more attention to Hermione and Riddle.

"Healing magic is hard," Hermione commented thoughtfully. "Do you know a lot of healing spells?"

"I know enough," was Riddle's arrogant reply.

Once again, Hermione condoned his scathing remark and simply nodded. Her gaze fell to the empty cup in Riddle's hand and she asked,

"Do you want something else? I can get you more."

Ginny had noticed that before, Hermione's strange eagerness to please. Ginny couldn't count the times that her friend had offered to do something for her as if it were Hermione's job to take care of other people's chores. It rubbed Ginny the wrong way to see Hermione offering to do things for Riddle. Surely, the Slytherin would be someone to gladly exploit her kindness. Ginny was proven right as Riddle nodded haughtily and wordlessly pushed his cup in Hermione's hands.

†

Ginny was rather set in her assessment of Riddle's character. Some people were just evil without any reason and Riddle was one of them. Since first year, Ginny had known that he was a cold, sadistic bastard. In fact, she supposed the whole school knew. People were scared of Riddle. It had always been like this. The problem with Riddle was, though, that he wasn't  _just_ evil. No, he was also smart. So, while over the years there had been some nasty incidents at Hogwarts, Riddle had never been caught in the middle of it. He engineered everything from the shadows. No-one knew of his next plans, who his target might be or how he would strike. There was always a lack of proof, a last rest of doubt, that protected Riddle. So, while people feared him, they also couldn't fight back or even just point their fingers at him.

Knowing all that, it was quite confusing for Ginny as she watched a strange interaction between Hermione and Riddle. Dean had disappeared into the forest to take a leak and Seamus and Ron lay in a drunken stupor in the grass. So, Ginny was the only audience, but went quite unnoticed.

"You… you're not having much fun, do you?" Hermione looked at Riddle, worrying her lower lip.

"What did you expect?," Riddle sneered. "Your friends are dunces."

Hermione bored a finger into his side and chided, "They're not."

Riddle shrugged carelessly. She averted her eyes from him and whispered insecurely, "You know… you don't have to stay, Tom."

A small smile took shape on Riddle's face and Ginny couldn't believe her eyes. It wasn't a smirk nor a scornful sneer, but a genuine smile. It was strangely out of place on the Slytherin's face. Gingerly, he pulled Hermione closer to him, snaked both arms around her and held her securely. Ginny watched in astonishment as Riddle bent down to Hermione and placed a soft kiss against the crown of her head. The gesture was sincere, not twisted by Riddle's usual devious behaviour, and it left Ginny with a sense of confusion.

"I can't leave you alone with those dim-witted lions, can I?" the Slytherin whispered, and although it was an insult, his voice was still uncharacteristically tender.

" _You_  are dim-witted," came Hermione's muffled reply as she mumbled into his shirt.

To Ginny's surprise, Riddle didn't take offence. Instead, he laughed softly at Hermione's stubbornness. Amusement still danced in his eyes as he readjusted his grip on her so she could lie comfortably against him. Ginny furrowed her brow, thoroughly confused by Riddle's strangely affectionate behaviour.

_Maybe I've drunk too much after all …or, the more likely explanation, he's leading her on._

"Hey, Ginny." Dean tugged at her arm, drunken smile on his face.

"What?"

"Let's go swimming in the Great Lake," her boyfriend exclaimed.

"It's freezing cold," was Ginny's unenthusiastic reply.

Dean simply pulled his wand. "Warming charms."

Ginny blinked up at him, slightly impressed by his ingenuity despite his alcohol level. Then she shrugged.

"Okay."

Smiling widely, Dean pulled her up and towards the lake.

†

"The stars are beautiful," Hermione mused as she strode through the Forbidden Forest, Tom following her.

It was rather late by now and their little party had broken up. Ginny and Dean had disappeared towards the Great Lake while Ron and Seamus had stumbled back to the castle some time ago. Hermione gasped as suddenly a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed her forcefully against a tree. Next a silky voice whispered into her ear,

"I'm not really interested in the stars right now."

Hermione blinked up at Tom and found a devilish smirk his lips. He stepped closer, his chest pushing against hers now. Then he bent down to her and pressed his mouth over hers, kissing her demandingly. Hermione's head swirled and a fluttery feeling squeezed her as she felt his lips against hers.

"You know," Tom purred softly. "I think you owe me. For having forced me to endure your loud-mouthed friends."

Hermione experimentally tugged at his grip, but could not break free. Despite Tom looming over her like that, she smiled up at him. Maybe it was the Firewhiskey she had nipped from, but Hermione was feeling quite adventurous.

"I see," she replied, faux innocence in her words. "How should I ever repay you?"

An eerie light burned up in Tom's blue eyes as he whispered in a husky voice, "Oh, I have an idea or two."

Again his mouth crashed against hers. Hermione gasped softly before it was muffled by his hungry kiss. Tom sucked and bit her lips almost painfully. His actions sparked a burning need to take a hold of Hermione. She barely noticed it as Tom pulled her down to the ground. A thick blanket had appeared out of no-where and now covered the soft forest floor. Hermione didn't care. Driven by a mad hunger, she rubbed her tongue against Tom's.

Her hands wandered to his chest and she pushed him on his back. Still kissing him greedily, she climbed onto him, straddling him with her knees on either side of his hips. Her fingers ran through his hair while her tongue explored his mouth. Tom moaned softly and it only drove her on.

Hermione sat up. Gingerly, she first pulled the black robes from him, before she unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingers skimmed over the exposed skin of his chest, enjoying the warmth and smoothness. She bent down to him and placed light kisses over his neck. She nibbled at his skin as she wandered down, kissing and tasting him. Tom's body was tense under her ministrations, obviously not used to this position. Hermione wondered if he had ever allowed anyone such free reign. It was reassuring that he trusted her enough to let her continue.

Hermione liked exploring Tom's body. The last time they'd been together like this, she hadn't touched Tom much. She'd been too timid and also a bit scared of Tom. Now she couldn't stop running her hands over him. He was all firm muscles stretching under his skin, but also soft at places. Hermione smiled as she felt how he slowly relaxed under her as she kissed her way over his skin. Tom gasped softly as she reached a nipple and swirled her tongue around it.

Her hand wandered down his belly, skimming over the firm abdominal muscles, until she reached the waistband of his pants. Quickly, she opened the button and unzipped the fly.

.

Tom couldn't help but moan in pleasure as he felt her hand dip into his trousers. He had never made a habit of bedding inexperienced girls – virgins were too much work with their clumsy fiddling and cluelessness – but for Hermione he gladly made an exception.

Hot desire shot through him as he felt her nibbling at his skin, while her hand worked its way into his boxers. Her fingers were hesitant, the touches careful, but Tom didn't care that she didn't really know what she was doing. In fact, he enjoyed it even more because of it. He liked her explorations and, strangely enough, he also liked how Hermione seemed to enjoy herself.

He tensed and his eyes closed as her fingers lightly danced over his cock. Torturously slowly, she stroked his length and Tom couldn't help but shudder under her ministrations as lust raged through him. Her lips found his again and Tom instantly plunged his tongue into her mouth, driven by nothing but raw desire, as she continued to palm his cock. Her process, though welcome as it was, was too slow for Tom. Greedily, he grabbed Hermione by her shoulders and turned them around, so that he now hovered over her. She blinked up at him with wide eyes and Tom smirked.

"Enough with your teasing," he whispered huskily. "It's my turn."

He didn't leave her time to adjust, but quickly tugged her pullover over her head and peeled her out of her bra. Hermione gasped softly as her breasts were exposed to the cool night air. The sight of her like this was driving Tom mad. Greedily, he ran his hands over her sides, enjoying her soft skin and how her rips didn't jut out anymore. Hermione wasn't the scrawny, half-starved thing anymore and he thoroughly enjoyed her curves. His hands reached her breasts and kneaded the flesh, now and then flicking her nipples. Hermione's face was flushed and she panted softly.

Tom's hands slid to her jeans and he hastily pulled them down her legs. A moan fell from his mouth as he looked at Hermione spread out before him. Her only article of clothing were her black knickers. Hot desire shot through Tom and right to his cock as he slowly pulled the black fabric down her body, finally exposing her to him. He skimmed a hand up her inner thigh until he reached the apex of her legs and Hermione writhed in pleasure. Tom's own lust was driving him mad as he made contact with the soft skin, already wet with desire, and he swirled his fingers through her slick folds. He circled her clit and pinched it, making Hermione gasp. Then his fingers skimmed down, teasing her opening.

"Tom!" Hermione desperately urged him on.

He smirked down at her, thoroughly enjoying the power he had over her. Slowly, he slid his index finger into her entrance and Hermione moaned loudly. Flicking his thumb over her clit, Tom inserted a second finger. She gasped again, hips budging against him. Entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into her, he pumped them in and out of her. Hermione's breathing got increasingly laboured and the growing wetness was sign of her approaching climax.

He smirked evilly and pulled away from her hot flesh. Hermione made a frustrated mewling sound and her eyes shot open. Ignoring her needy flesh, Tom raised his hand and studied his fingers glistening with her juices. He slid them into his mouth, licking at them, and groaned as he could taste her arousal. Then Tom smirked down at Hermione.

"You taste good. But I want everything of you."

He was pleased to see a blush colouring her cheeks. Still, she also pulled at him, tugging him closer. He made quick work of his own clothes until they were both naked. Raw lust coursed through him and Tom felt no need to draw this out any longer. He gently laid a hand on Hermione's stomach, casting a rather useful spell over her. Then he slowly crawled over his little prey, feasting on the sight of her exposed hot flesh beneath him. Hermione stared up at him, pupils blown wide with her lust, as she waited for his next move. Tom's head dipped down to her, mouth violently crashing against hers, while his hands grabbed her thighs. Harshly, he spread her legs and positioned himself in-between.

He could hear her gasp throatily, as he slowly pushed into her. She was incredibly tight around his cock, her walls clamping down at the intrusion. It was only the second time he slept with her and for Hermione the second time to sleep with anyone at all. Tom would make sure that it only ever was him.

He pushed farther into her, stretching her, invading her. Feeling her wet tightness around him, Tom's arousal intensified to something almost painful and he started to move, sliding in and out of her. Hermione writhed beneath him, moaning and whimpering in the haze of her lust-filled mind. Her hands desperately grasped at Tom's shoulders, trying to steady herself. He couldn't get enough of the beautiful sight of her spread out under him, surrendering so completely to him. Tom grabbed her wrists and forced them over her head. Bunching them together with one hand, he pressed her wrists into the blanket. Hermione gasped softly, but in the throes of her passion was unable to stop him. Tom's other hand grasped her hip, steadying her. Then he picked up pace, thrusting in and out of her faster.

Like a monster that had been caged for too long, Tom felt his lust and desire rip at him, demanding to be finally satisfied. He didn't want to hold himself back anymore. Feeling the lust mounting up more and more, Tom slammed into her harder and faster. He was probably hurting her a bit, but she was too far gone to care and only moaned loudly. His hand released her hip, skimmed over her hot, sweaty skin, and reached between her legs. Deftly, his fingers found her clit and stroked it, now and then flicking it. Hermione moaned and trembled under his touch, barely able to hold herself back. She was almost there. Smirk twisting his lips, Tom harshly tugged at her clit and squeezed it while he thrust deep into her.

With that, Hermione cried out in ecstasy and Tom felt her inner walls clamping down on his cock. Her whole body shivered helplessly as her orgasm washed over her and Tom's own lust spiralled out of control. He pounded into her in hard, erratic thrusts. His hand around her wrists tightened viciously as his climax quickly approached and he sped up again. Finally, the burning, agonizing lust burst and one last time Tom drove into her as deep as he could. He moaned loudly, blissful release surging through him, as he exploded inside her, filling her up.

Breathing laboured and fast, Tom let himself fall on top of Hermione. Her body was soft and pleasant beneath him as he bathed in the afterglow of his orgasm. His hand released its tight grip on her wrists, allowing her movement again. Gingerly, Hermione's fingers trailed over Tom's back, caressing his skin, until they ran through his hair. His eyes slid shut and he felt wonderfully sated while he enjoyed her soft and gentle contact.

†

Calmly, the stars shone down on them. Tom was spread out on the blanket, his warming charm still heating it pleasantly. Hermione was tugged into his side, and he hadn't felt so relaxed in a long time. Maybe they should just stay here for the night, he thought sluggishly and glanced at the curly-haired girl beside him. She looked utterly spent as she snuggled against him. After that performance right now, Tom was inclined to admit that having Hermione think she was free did indeed have a few perks.

Tom's musings were interrupted as Hermione skimmed a hand over his shoulder. Then she slung her arm around him and buried her face into his chest.

"I'll never let anything happen to you," she mumbled.

Tom cocked an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"

"I need you." He felt Hermione hugging him even tighter. "I'll always protect you."

A smirk slid on Tom's face. "You realize I'm not a completely incompetent wizard?"

Hermione raised her face at him. "I don't want anyone to take you away from me."

Tom blinked at her. He was surprised by her admission, especially now that Hermione thought she wasn't bound to him anymore. Normally, people prayed that he would leave them alone.

… _and with good reason, too._

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was a week later that Hermione sat in Tom's bedroom. Currently, she was occupied with going through his books. His rather diffuse system of sorting the precious books had disturbed her from day one and Hermione had decided to address the problem. For that purpose she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of a shelf, surrounded by stacks of books. Meanwhile, Tom comfortably lay on his bed and read in a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Stifling a yawn, Hermione glanced at him. Tom was still propped up against the headboard. By now his head had dropped and his eyes were closed. Hermione grinned at the sleeping Slytherin. She stood up, legs tingling slightly from how much time she had spent on the floor, and walked over to him. Cautiously as not to wake Tom, she sat on the bed and raised a hand to run her fingers through his shiny black hair. It was so very smooth. Very unlike her own unmanageable mane. Hermione peered at Tom's face. His eyes were still closed and he wasn't reacting to her at all. Grinning mischievously, Hermione started to braid his hair. She had managed to make three tiny little plaits as Tom finally stirred. Without opening his eyes, he asked,

"What are you doing?"

Hermione giggled before she said in a perfectly controlled voice, "Braiding your hair."

A long sigh left Tom. Then he commented, "One would think my hair's too short for that."

"Well, that would be a mistake then, wouldn't it?"

Tom grinned. Hermione removed her fingers from his silky hair and watched him as he stretched his arms and yawned. Pursing her lips, she asked,

"Tom? Did you ever find any hints of the other two Founders' objects?" At his raised eyebrow she frowned at him. "You are still searching for them, aren't you?"

"Yes," Tom said warily, sitting up on the bed.

"Did you find anything?" Hermione prodded expectantly.

He sighed. "Frustratingly little. I don't even know what Gryffindor's object  _is_."

Hermione's ears perked up at that. "What about Hufflepuff's object? You know what that is?"

"I do," Tom allowed.

"Really?"

"It wasn't that difficult to find out," he said, pulled his wand and waved it at his trunk.

A thick book with gilded pages flew over to Tom. Hermione could glimpse the word 'Conditoribus' imprinted on the leather cover and that was when she remembered it.

"That's the book you had with you when we went to Albania," she said excitedly.

"Yes," Tom replied distractedly as he flipped through the pages. "Here it is…"

He offered Hermione the opened book. There was a small smile tugging at her mouth as she accepted it.

"You know, the last time I dared to read your precious book you tried to strangle me."

Tom blinked at her in confusion. "Really? I don't remember that."

Hermione nodded as her fingers glided over the aged parchment. "Yes, you said the next time I touched it, you'd make me regret it."

Tom glanced at her, a smirk twisting his lips, and Hermione knew he  _did_  remember that incident. He slid closer to her on the sofa and placed a soft kiss on her temple. Then he innocently crooned into her ear,

"You must have misunderstood me."

Hermione threw him a reproachful look and replied sarcastically, "Yeah, I'm sure that's what happened."

Tom's eyes glittered in amusement and Hermione shook her head. Then she looked down at the book in her lap. There was a beautiful drawing of a golden cup, the colours glowing with a magical hue.

"This is Hufflepuff's?"

"Yes," Tom said and pointed at the paragraph below the drawing. "There are powerful enchantments woven over the cup. Apparently, if you fill it with water and speak a certain incantation, the water will turn into whatever potion you desire."

Hermione's eyes widened and she stared at the golden cup in wonder. "Wow, that's incredible."

"Indeed," Tom said with far less enthusiasm.

He pulled the book from Hermione and with an annoyed expression on his face threw it on the bed.

"Unfortunately, the stupid book has no hints as to where the cup might be."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are you sure?"

Tom sagged against the headboard of the bed. "I've read it a hundred times."

"Maybe you missed something," Hermione said and reached for the Founders' book.

Tom glanced at her through the corners of his eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

"I'm gonna read it," she declared and re-opened the book.

"Be my guest," he replied listlessly.

Hermione's eyes already danced over the words and Tom just shook his head at her eagerness.

"I think it's at Hogwarts," he added after a moment.

Hermione looked up from her reading. "What?"

"Hufflepuff's object."

She blinked at him owlishly. "How do you know?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not willing to divulge his knowledge.

"Do you know where exactly?" Hermione pressed.

A deep from creased Tom's forehead. "Not really. And believe me, I have searched."

Hermione's eyes fell back to the book. "Maybe I'll find something."

Tom just snorted disparagingly. Then he checked his watch. "Almost time for the prefects' meeting."

"I wanted to go to the library anyway," said Hermione.

Clutching the Founders' book, she got up. Before Hermione slipped out the door, she amusedly noticed how the tiny braids were still in Tom's black hair. She wondered what the prefects would say to that.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **What is the love of shadowy lips**

**That know not what they seek or press,**

**From whom the lure for ever slips**

**And fails their phantom tenderness?'**

**-** **George William (AE) Russell (*1867** **†** **1935)**


	25. God of Crossed Hands

"This is so boring," Draco complained fastidiously. "Why did we have to get the Kelpie?"

Hermione threw him a dark look and skidded a bit away from him. "I think it's interesting."

The blond rolled his eyes at her. Hermione gritted her teeth in anger and tried to ignore him. Stubbornly, she stared at the murky water of the small pond they were sitting at. Professor Kettleburn had divided his class into groups of twos and had then sent the students into the Forbidden Forest to each observe and describe a different sort of magical creature. Hermione suspected that the teacher simply hadn't wanted to hold a class and had shooed his students into the forest to get rid of them.

_Out of sight, out of mind._

It was probably the universe that hated her, because Hermione had ended up with Draco Malfoy. Now they sat at a small pond in the middle of the forest and waited for a Kelpie that would probably never show. Hermione held a scroll of parchment and her quill in her hands and watched the dark water, ready to take notes should the demon horse appear. Meanwhile, Draco idly lounged on the forest floor, protected from the dirt by his black cloak that he had spread out, and didn't even glance at the pond.

"Can't you just make something up?" Draco asked, nodding at the parchment in Hermione's hand.

She narrowed her eyes at him and lectured tightly, "No, that would be cheating."

"Merlin," the blond drawled priggishly. "And you're really supposed to be  _Riddle's_  girlfriend?"

He released a long-suffering sigh and let himself fall back to the ground, arms crossed behind his head. At his abrupt movement, Hermione's body involuntarily tensed. She berated herself for that fearful reaction. There was no need to be afraid. Draco couldn't hurt her anymore. Still, Hermione felt uncomfortable in his presence, especially now that they were quite alone. Nervously, she pulled at the sleeve of her cloak. She could almost feel her Dark Mark traitorously tingling on her skin.

"What time is it?" Draco inquired, annoying whine in his tone.

Hermione remembered the times when she would have jumped at his every request. Now she only shrugged her shoulders. Draco sighed again and pulled his pocket watch. Silver, quite beautiful  _…and expensive_  as Hermione knew.

"Still an hour?" the Slytherin moaned. "This is a waste of time. It's never gonna show."

Hermione was inclined to agree, though would sooner bite off her tongue than admit it. She wasn't even sure Kelpies lived in the Forbidden Forest. Kettleburn could be rather disorganised at times. Still staring at the uninviting body of water, Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Draco flopped over on his side so he could look at Hermione and asked conversationally,

"Did you think about my invitation?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and glanced at the Slytherin. "What?"

The strangely amiable smile he sent her way felt out of place. Hermione wasn't used to Draco actually smiling at her and eyed him warily.

"Did you already forget?" he chastised teasingly. "I invited you to my place over the summer."

Hermione's fingers nervously flexed around her quill. Never,  _never_ , did she want to see Malfoy manor again. Carefully, she tried to wriggle out of this without giving away how disturbed she was by the invitation,

"I'm not sure. I don't know what I'll do during the summer yet."

Draco pursed his lips, looking almost…  _disappointed?_  "You  _have_  to come for the summer solstice at least. My family hosts a huge feast for the occasion every year."

Oh, Hermione knew. And she had always hated it. Each year, Hermione and the rest of the Malfoys' Mudbloods had been forced to start preparing that feast weeks in advance, on top of their usual workload. On the day, Hermione would have to serve the guests, running about to offer food and drinks, only to end up being yelled at by drunk wizards. Every year, at least one of them would also curse her.

"No excuses," Draco's voice pierced through her not so fond memories. "You can't refuse."

There was a boyish grin on his face that made him look scarily attractive. Hermione felt her heart racing in her chest. Her whole body screamed at her to get up and run away.

"You could also bring that boyfriend of yours," Draco offered. "Tom usually visits for the solstice anyway."

"Er… I'll- I'll ask him." Hermione hated herself for how shaky her voice sounded.

Luckily, Draco didn't seem to notice. Lost in his own thoughts, he mused, "Pff, last time Tom visited… You know how he still owes me a Mudblood? Last time he came to Malfoy manor, he borrowed one and never gave it back."

Hermione glared at the Slytherin, fear temporarily pushed away, and ascertained indignantly, "Tom doesn't steal."

It was a lie. Hermione had learned that there wasn't much Tom wouldn't do if it benefited him, but in this case she felt justified in her outrage.

"I didn't say he did. He probably just forgot about the Mudblood," Draco tried to appease, probably scared she'd tell Tom. "A shame. The Mudblood might have been slow, but at least well-trained. I don't remember when we bought her, but we had her for some time."

Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of air, trying to calm her frayed nerves. She still remembered the day she had been sold to the Malfoys. Maybe it wasn't worth remembering in Draco's mind, but to her it had been a traumatic event.

"I probably should give up," Draco continued. "I'm never gonna see that Mudblood again. Riddle's probably killed her by now."

Hermione couldn't help but shudder at that notion. Draco was ignorant to her upset state and continued to chatter, "Merlin knows what strange experiments he's been up to. I've heard from Bella that he's developing his own curses. Probably used _my_  Mudblood as a test subject. Great."

_Tom would never do that!_  Hermione screamed at him in her mind. Outwardly, she struggled to maintain a calm mask. Draco just shrugged carelessly as if 'Penny's' gruesome death was merely a minor inconvenience.

"Ah well, what can you do?" he sighed loftily. "Father's probably bought a new one by now."

He really didn't care, did he? Anger boiled up in Hermione. Years and years, she had worked for the Malfoys, catering to their every wish, and what did she get in return? Nothing. Nothing, but a shrug at her supposed death. Hermione felt her magic twisting and coiling agitatedly, eager to lash out at the conceited Slytherin.

"You don't seem overly concerned that your Mudblood might be dead."

She didn't know why she said it. It was a lost cause anyway. Sure enough, Draco glanced at her and stated airily, "Your family never had many Mudbloods, hm?"

Grinding her teeth at his arrogant tone, Hermione replied, "Not really. No."

"Well, it's not like they're pets," Draco told her. "You don't really get attached."

"I see." Hermione's voice was tight. "You don't get close, do you?"

She might not have been able to ban all her anger from her voice, because Draco cocked his eyebrows at her in confusion.

"Mudbloods don't  _do_  much," he explained confidently. "They're quite boring. They work, they sleep and that's it. It's all they want. They're not like us. Did you ever try talk to one? It's like talking to a Flobberworm. You have to repeat everything five times until they get it."

Hermione felt her fingers curling around the smooth wood of her wand as a surge of white-hot anger hit her. She hadn't even noticed how she had reached for her wand. Her mouth opened and she really couldn't control much of what fell out,

"Aren't they human beings, too? Like us?"

A deep frown appeared on Draco's brow as he scanned Hermione, deeply confused. "Maybe they look a tiny bit like us, but that's it. They're just really really stupid. It takes months to get them trained to do any simple task. They don't even have real magic. Dreadful."

†

In a flash, the rest of Hermione's classes rushed by. Her thoughts were elsewhere. The whole day she was on edge while Draco's words gnawed at her and silent anger festered.

_I am not slow. Not stupid!_

Hermione had seen it for herself since she had entered Hogwarts: She was _not_  worthless or deficient. Despite that knowledge, Draco's words hurt. Why couldn't she just ignore his incoherent ramblings? It left Hermione angry, angry at Draco for spreading such lies, angry at all those Purebloods believing them, and angry at herself for being so horribly vulnerable.

With these thoughts relentlessly burning in her mind, Hermione entered the Heads' common room after a day of wasted classes. She hadn't yet spoken with Tom today and hoped he could take the edge from Draco's lies. A relieved breath left her as she spotted the Head Boy lounging on the sofa. Quickly, Hermione went over to him, pushed Tom's legs away and plopped down beside him. She didn't let him get a word in but said frostily,

"Today I had Care of Magical Creatures and had to work with Draco Malfoy."

Then she glared at Tom accusingly. Seeing that look, he sighed tiredly. He put his elbow on the backrest of the sofa to casually prop his head up on his hand. Then he gazed at Hermione indulgently.

"What happened? Tell me about it."

Hermione irately narrowed her eyes at him and complained, "Why did you put me in that class? You're not even taking it yourself."

"I don't like spending my time looking after animals." Tom shrugged, unapologetic. "But I thought you'd be one to enjoy bouncing around with those fur balls, wasting your time."

Hermione scowled darkly, annoyed that he was basically right. She ignored that and continued irately, "I certainly didn't have much fun today. Kettleburn's assignments were  _completely_  pointless and on top of that I've been partnered with  _Draco Malfoy_."

Tom didn't really react to that revelation. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling irritated by his lack of understanding. Then again, Hermione didn't really need to have an attentive audience to let off steam.

"That stupid boy is incorrigible," she snapped heatedly. "Off he goes insulting me. I almost hexed him. Seriously, I had already half-pulled my wand. I mean, what would  _you_  do if someone called you stupid."

The bored look immediately drained from Tom's eyes and he sat up a bit straighter. "Malfoy called you  _what_?!"

Feeling a bit assuaged by his anger, Hermione replied stiffly, "Well… he didn't insult me personally."

Tom frowned at her sharply. "What did he do? Tell me."

Hermione sagged against the sofa. Her anger had died down with her rant and she was left behind feeling exhausted and a bit empty. "Draco was talking about Mudbloods in general. He said we are stupid. And our magic is… useless."

Hearing that, Tom slid closer to Hermione. He wrapped a comforting arm around her and pulled her against him. Then he soothed gingerly,

"Hermione, you are an exception. You know that, right?"

She furrowed her brow and looked up at him. That was not what she had needed to hear.

"You are something special," Tom said, approval glinting in his eyes as they greedily wandered over her. "I don't know why, but you possess a great deal of magical power. For a Mudblood you are incredibly talented."

Hermione shrugged his arm from her. Her anger rushed back to her. Tom looked at her, seemingly confused by her angry glare. It hurt. Hermione was  _hurt_  by that expression on his face.

"So, you think I'm an exception, do you?" she asked snippily. "But in general Mudbloods  _are_  stupid and powerless?"

"Of course they are," Tom replied matter-of-factly. "I don't know what sets you apart. Maybe you did have some magical ancestors. It's the only explanation."

Hermione's heart clenched achingly as she heard the conviction in his voice. There was bitterness leaking from her words as she asked,

"Is that why you spend time with me? You are just interested in my magic. If I didn't have that, you would never waste your time with me?"

Tom didn't really need time to reply, "No. I wouldn't."

Hermione breathed in sharply. The anger was swelling inside her made her hands tremble. She wanted nothing more than to pull her wand and curse Tom like she had wanted to curse Draco at that pond. Woven and twisted into her fury, there was a touch of something cold and painful, though. Hermione couldn't deal with it and abruptly stood up. Tom was observing her every move as she stomped over to the exit.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his inflection demanding.

Hermione gritted her teeth furiously. She turned her head and glared at Tom. His face was expressionless but for a reproachful glint in his eyes.

"None of your business," she growled at him.

At her belligerent tone, an eerie light began to burn in Tom's eyes and his dark magic balefully danced around him. Hermione was not in the mood to deal with one of his relapses into trying to order her around.

"Get over here," Tom commanded, his tone brooking no disobedience.

Hermione fully turned to Tom, her eyes narrowed into two angry slits. His dark magic was thick in the air and threateningly wrenched at her.

"No," she threw at Tom acridly. "You can't order me around anymore."

With that Hermione allowed her own magic to crackle around her in a stormy cloud. Vindictively, it forced Tom's dark magic away. Now free, Hermione turned around and ripped open the door.

"Bye!" she threw irately at Tom.

She left and slammed the door shut behind her. Angrily, Hermione stomped away from the Heads' common room. She half expected Tom to follow her, but he didn't. She certainly didn't care either way, Hermione decided fiercely. Under a thick layer of her wrath, though, she could still feel that coldness in the pit of her stomach grow. Hermione ignored it. There was no need to nurse any hurt feelings. After all, Tom's lies, like Draco's, held absolutely  _no meaning_.

She was halfway to the Gryffindor tower as Hermione turned around a corner and ran head first into the icy sensation of being drowsed in cold water. She gasped in shock and stumbled a step away.

"Pardon me, my Lady," a deep voice said.

Hermione looked up and found the Bloody Baron hovering just a step away from her. He had an apologetic expression on his face as he scanned her.

"It's fine," Hermione whispered, unbalanced by his sudden appearance. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

The Baron's face lit up as he recognized her. "Oh, it is the wand thief. Please, forgive me, but I never asked for your name."

"Erm… Rookwood," Hermione stuttered. "Hermione Rookwood."

The Baron scanned her pensively. Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"You do not look like a Rookwood," the ghost finally declared.

"I- I am, though," Hermione stuttered nervously.

The Baron arched a sceptical eyebrow, but relented, "If that is the name of your choosing, I will respect your wishes."

Hermione nodded thankfully. She really didn't want to discuss her fake identity. Gracefully, the Baron dropped the sore topic and instead asked kindly,

"Is my wand still serving you well, my Lady?"

A small smile dared to curl Hermione's lips and she pulled her wand. She held it up so the ghost could inspect it.

"Yes. It's the best wand."

The Baron's grey eyes wandered over the wood. A wistful smile on his face, he remarked, "Although we were good companions once, seeing that wand now brings me no joy. Alas, I am glad that it has found a new purpose."

"I'm glad, too," Hermione said, fingers gently curling around her wand. "I don't know what I'd do without the wand."

The Baron nodded understandingly. Then he unfixed his eyes from his old wand and looked at Hermione.

"Now, my Lady," the ghost said smilingly. "What has got you in such a hurry? It seems something managed to disturb your cheerful disposition."

Hermione peered at the ghost's pale face and Tom's harsh words came rushing back to her. Her anger, forgotten by the Baron's sudden appearance, returned as well.

"It's Tom," she admitted sullenly. "He's so- I don't know… difficult to deal with at times."

"And who might this Tom fellow be?" asked the Baron, raising his eyebrows. "Your beau?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess you could call it that."

"Are you perchance talking about Tom Riddle of the House Slytherin?"

"Yes," was her rather unenthusiastic reply.

The Baron nodded knowingly. "I am afraid Slytherin men have always been difficult, my Lady." The ghost laughed softly. "Then again, I suppose our womenfolk are probably just as difficult."

Hermione sighed loudly which caused the Baron to grin at her. "Do not despair. We Slytherins might be difficult to deal with, but we are not all bad. Once we have set our heart on something, we are not easily swayed but very faithful. What we accept as ours, we protect by any means necessary."

"Maybe," Hermione grumbled. "But Tom's so stubborn. You just can't talk with him. He lies, too. I can't tell what he's really thinking. I know he can be nice, but then he suddenly says something horribly cruel. And I don't know if he really believes it or if he's just trying to hurt me." She angrily pursed her lips and leaned against the corridor wall. "Sometimes, I don't know why he even spends time with me …if he even likes me at all. He's just so  _frustrating_."

The Baron grinned at her continued rant and soothed, "Oh, I know. Your beau is a true Slytherin. I do not envy you."

Hermione ran an agitated hand through her curly hair. "Merlin, what have I got myself into?"

The ghost studied her for a moment. Then he floated a bit closer as if wanting to tell a secret. "At times, it is far easier to shroud one's mind and heart behind lies and falsehood. It makes a less vulnerable target."

Hermione peered up at his grey, translucent face. The Baron threw her a sad smile and nodded at the wand in her hand. "If I had been less hot-headed and more of a Slytherin, the tragedy around that wand would never have taken place."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Once again, Tom had to search for his Mudblood. This was becoming an irksome ritual, wasn't it? Since Hermione's outburst yesterday in the common room, she avoided him. Not out of fear, this time. Tom had seen her throwing him dark glares. Then she would stalk away in a huff, blatantly ignoring him. At least, he wasn't ignorant as to how he had incurred her disapproval. It was a learning curve, he supposed.

Tom wasn't sure why he hadn't tried to calm Hermione down after Malfoy had managed to incense her. He had known what she had wanted to hear. To appease Hermione's temper, he would only have had to spin a few quick lies.

Yet, for some reason, Tom hadn't  _wanted_  to give her the lies.

And why should he have? Despite Malfoy being an idiot, this time he had been right. Mudbloods  _were_  stupid and powerless creatures. Disgustingly weak. Hermione needed to accept that and she needed to stop caring. After all, she wasn't one of them. Wasn't that the whole  _point_? She was in no way ordinary. This was the reason why Tom wanted her: Hermione was special. He didn't understand why that wouldn't be something desirable …why he needed to smooth this truth over with lies for her.

Hermione was smart, powerful and  _special_. And all of that, all of  _her_ , was Tom's.

Shaking his head at his Mudblood's lack of understanding, Tom roamed the castle in search for her. Of course it was in the library that he found her. Hidden behind a shelf with Arithmancy books, Hermione sat at one of the tables. Head bent, she poured over a roll of parchment with books scattered around her. Wordlessly, Tom headed over to her and slipped into the chair beside her.

The Mudblood kept up her charade and ignored him. She didn't even look up from her essay and Tom felt slightly miffed. He gave her a moment to overcome her childish sulkiness, but Hermione remained to be stubborn. Fed up by her defiance, Tom broke the silence,

"You didn't come to the Heads' common room after classes."

Unimpressed, Hermione continued her essay, quill dancing over the parchment, and replied waspishly, "Well, I didn't feel like it today. And I don't have any obligation to show up at all."

Tom didn't know whether to be amused or insulted by her continued unruliness. It was his own fault, he supposed, that Hermione embraced her factitious freedom. This was the price he had to pay for keeping her close.

"You've been evading me," Tom stated, pouring a bit of his annoyance into his voice.

Hermione stopped writing, quill hovering over the parchment. She put her quill down and finally looked up at Tom. She studied him, brown eyes piercing into his, and curtly stated,

"I'm pretty sure you know why."

Tom felt his magic budge irately at her tone. As he spoke next, there was scorn maliciously woven into his voice, "Is it because you want to continue turning a blind eye to the truth?"

He felt Hermione's angry magic rise and a sharp smirk crept on his face. The girl glared at him and threw back,

"No. It's because you love to insult me with your lies."

Tom sneered at her lack of insight. "What I said yesterday  _is_  the truth. And it's time that you finally admit it and accept what you really are."

"You want me to accept what I am?" Hermione laughed derisively. "That's rich, coming from you."

The smirk slipped from Tom's face and he narrowed his eyes at her. A dangerous undercurrent crept into his voice as he inquired, "What do you mean?"

"You said Mudbloods are weak," Hermione dared to sneer. "Following your own logic of blood purity, I don't see why you, of all people, would have any right to criticise anyone."

Tom's face darkened. "What are you trying to say?"

"Who's blind to the truth now?" the Mudblood returned mockingly. "Let me remind you, then. You are a  _Halfblood_ , Tom. You are no better than any Mudblood out there. Might I remind you, according to the Ministry you should have been killed at birth."

That  _word_. A flash of anger hit Tom hard and made his vision white for a second. His hands balled into fists as his temper spun out of control. How  _dare_  she say that? Here in the library where everyone could hear?! Tom's magic, howling in anger, left his body and crackled around him. Violently it reached for Hermione, thirsting to rip her apart. Tom was not going to continue this conversation here. Abruptly, he stood up and grabbed Hermione harshly by her arm.

"Get your books. We are leaving."

A murderous edge twisted his cold voice and Tom wasn't going to hold himself back much longer. Angrily he pulled at the Mudblood. Hermione still resisted and glared up at him in anger.

"Let go of me."

Tom could feel her tugging at her arm, trying to get away from him. His temper flared dangerously and he snarled,

"Get up!"

Brutally, he pulled Hermione from her chair. She hissed in pain as she was forced to stand up.

"I said let go!" she spat, trying to pry Tom's fingers from her.

Despite her protest, Tom gruffly wrenched Hermione with him. She still tried to pull away from his grip. Tom's enraged magic bristled around him and he ordered her sharply,

"You're coming with me right now."

"What do you plan to do if I don't?" Hermione dared to provoke defiantly. "Curse some obedience into me?"

Tom's anger peaked as he heard the scorn leaking through her words. He didn't stop his magic as it cruelly ripped at the mark on Hermione's forearm. Gruffly, he pulled her closer to him and bent down to her so his face was only inches from hers. Then he whispered menacingly,

"Maybe I should just get rid of you. I can get a lot of money if I sell you."

Instantly, Hermione stopped all attempts to pull free and her eyes widened in shock. Her face paled rapidly as she stared at Tom. All traces of anger fell from her features and morphed into something that looked suspiciously like fear. Tom felt her starting to under his grip and her magic, previously a fierce storm intend on ripping him in two, completely deflated. It hastily wrapped around Hermione as if trying to protect her.

Satisfied that she finally submitted to him, Tom decided commandingly, "You're going to co-"

He was cut short as he suddenly felt something sharply boring into his stomach. Tom looked down and his eyes widened as he saw Hermione had pulled her wand and now shoved it against him. Instantly, Tom's anger spiralled up even more. His eyes snapped back to the girl, ready to yell at her.

Before he could open his mouth, though, Tom was stopped by the deathly calm expression on Hermione's face. All emotion had dropped from her and her eyes glinted with determination as she threatened him with her wand, hand steady as stone. Hermione's magic had changed as well. It wasn't fuelled by anger or her lost temper anymore. Instead, Tom felt a lethal edge sharpening the force. It formed a protective barrier around the girl and flowed into her wand, poised to attack. And suddenly, Tom became very aware of the fact that his own wand was still stored away in his robe pocket.

"Let go," Hermione said.

Her voice was toneless, but it was unmistakably an order. Tom could feel the power behind Hermione's magic mounting up and he was acutely aware of the very serious threat behind the wand threatening him. Trying to keep his voice unperturbed, he said,

"Hermione, calm down. I wouldn-"

She didn't let him finish, but pushed her wand harshly against his stomach. Enunciating every word very clearly, Hermione repeated coldly,

"Let. Me. Go."

Magic hummed dangerously around the tip of her wand. The power behind that force burned a hole into Tom's robe and he had to suppress a flinch as it painfully burned his skin. He pressed his mouth into a thin line. This was not good. He would never reach his wand in time, but he also couldn't risk summoning wandless magic, not with the power of the curse building inside Hermione's wand. In a split second, Tom came to a decision.

"Okay," he soothed and uncurled his fingers from Hermione's arm.

Slowly, as not to provoke her, he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. For a moment, Hermione didn't react. Her wand was still pressed against Tom's stomach while she stared at him with strangely empty eyes.

Hermione took in a shaky breath of air. Then, without saying anything, she turned around and ran away. Tom watched her as she dashed away, turning around the next shelf and disappearing into the library. His arms sank down to his sides and he furrowed his brow. He definitely should chase after her, catch her, curse her like she had threatened to do with him. Still, Tom remained to be rooted to the spot. He couldn't even muster any anger.

Feeling strangely empty, Tom walked towards the table Hermione had sat at. Her things were still spread everywhere and Tom sank down on the chair Hermione had vacated. His gaze came to rest on the essay she had been working on. Transfiguration.  _Tricky_ , Tom's brain informed him uselessly. He had finished that essay yesterday …after he had chased Hermione from the Heads' common room.

Absently, Tom's hand wandered to the hole in his robe and gingerly rubbed over the burned skin underneath. He should be furious with her, shouldn't he? Hermione had dared to threaten him. After she had brought up his blood status in the middle of the library. He couldn't let her get away with this. Anger, though, was still absent. Instead, Tom was haunted by that lost look in Hermione's pretty eyes. He had to admit, the whole event was accompanied by a certain aspect of guilt. It was quite disturbing and Tom didn't appreciate the feeling at all.

Distractedly, he collected Hermione's things and carefully sorted them into her bag. Then he left the library. Tom knew he should punish Hermione for her intolerable behaviour, but he wasn't even sure she was at fault. His magic glumly wobbled around him as he searched for the Mudblood.  _Once again…_  Her eyes continued to spook through his mind. Jaded and empty. Tom didn't like it.

†

Curiously enough, Hermione ended up in the dungeons. It was probably the glum atmosphere that had drawn her here. By now there were tears running down her face and she hated herself for it. At least she was alone in the dimly lit corridors. Hermione trembled all over and couldn't walk another step. She sank down on the floor, hiding in a nook which was half-covered by a large tapestry. Hermione leaned against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. The stone at her back was cold and slimy with condensation water and dirt. She neither noticed nor cared.

' _I can get a lot of money if I sell you.'_

Hermione knew Tom hadn't meant it. It was a threat he had thrown at her in the heat of the argument. That knowledge, though, didn't take away the power behind those words. It made Hermione sick. Her throat constricted with suppressed sobs. Pressing her palm against her mouth, she tightly shut her eyes and forced the tears away.

There were so many memories assaulting her. Memories of a time as those words had not been an empty threat. Hermione remembered how she had huddled on a hard stone floor – not unlike the one she was now sitting on – and had tried to make herself as small as possible. She hadn't dared move for hours. Her thoughts had been controlled by nothing but fear. She remembered the fear so clearly as if it had etched a deep scar into her. It had been an all-encompassing fear, devouring everything else until she barely felt like a human being anymore. The fear had been accompanied by a sharp pain in her left forearm. An ugly tattoo had been freshly inked into her skin and Hermione hadn't understood why. She had only known that her parents were dead and that she was alone.

Whimpering softly, Hermione slung her arms around her knees, pulling them against her chest. She curled up into a tight ball and cried, exactly like she had done back then. Weak, helpless, pathetic. She hated that old fear with all her being, but was still too weak to break free from it.

"Hermione?" a soft voice gently called out for her.

Hermione's eyes shot open. The memories still spooked through her mind as she looked up and found Tom standing over her. Instinctively, her hand snapped to her wand and she pressed herself defensively against the wall. As he saw her reaction to him, Tom slowly crouched down in front of her. Hermione's breathing was fast and shallow, making herself dizzy.

"Go away," she ordered him hoarsely.

Her memories still didn't want to leave her alone. Tom didn't leave either.

"Hermione," he again whispered soothingly. "I didn't mean it."

He ran his fingers over her cheek, wiping tears away, and continued in his gentle voice, "I would never give you away. You know that."

Hermione stared into his blue eyes. Once again they were soft. Her fingers, though, were still curled around her wand. Tom cocked an eyebrow as he saw the doubt in her eyes. Then he offered her his hand. With suspicion in her eyes, Hermione scanned it.

"We don't want to get caught loitering around the corridors, hm?" Tom said in his deep, velvety voice.

Hermione leaned a bit away from him. Tom threw her a reassuring smile and coaxed, "Nothing's gonna happen to you. I promise."

Hermione was still trapped by her old fear and could not muster any trust. But she also didn't want to stay here and let that fear completely overpower her. Tom still offered her his hand, soft smile on his face. Hermione released a shaky breath of air. Then she stood up, ignoring the offered hand. Tom's smile didn't falter and he gestured for her to follow him.

"Come, we need to talk," he said and it was a request not an order this time.

Still clasping her wand tightly, Hermione nodded stiffly. Relief flooded Tom's face. Then he led her away from the cold dungeons and Hermione walked silently beside him.

Lost in painful memories, Hermione followed Tom through the castle until he stopped before a bare stretch of wall in an abandoned corridor. She didn't ask him what they were doing here. She wasn't sure she cared enough. With dull eyes, Hermione watched as Tom paced in front of the stretch of wall. Soon a door appeared out of no-where. Hermione didn't question it. Her breathing had got shaky again and she desperately tried to push her memories away.

She was only half aware that Tom opened the door for her to enter first. She just stared at him, unmoving. Entering first while turning her back to Tom did not sound like a good idea. Holding her wand tightly, Hermione gestured for him to go in. There was a hint of something like regret in Tom's blue eyes, but Hermione didn't care. She never released her wand as she followed him into the room.

As soon as Hermione had stepped through the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her fear and her memories shortly dropped into the background and she openly gawked at her surroundings. With a soft click the door fell shut behind her and disappeared. Hermione was left standing on a vast beach. As far as she could see there was nothing but sand and the ocean. A large red sun hung low on the horizon, already half disappeared in the sea. Gentle sun rays left a pleasant warmth on Hermione's skin and painted long shadows on the near-by dunes.

"What's this?" Hermione asked faintly.

Tom stood beside her on the beach and now smiled at her. "The Room of Requirement."

He gestured for her to sit on the almost white sand as he explained, "I thought you didn't want to go to the Heads' common room."

Still stunned, Hermione sank down on the sand. It was pleasantly warm. Tom gracefully sat beside her and put her bag down beside him on the sand.

"Are we still inside the castle?"

"Yes," Tom replied gently. "But this room can change into anything you like."

Hermione nodded absently while still staring at the ocean in front of her. The sea was calm, gentle waves lapping at the shore and lazily swirling the sand. She could even smell the sea. Salty and humid, the air was heavy with traces of a hot day that was slowly cooling for the night.

"I shouldn't have said that, Hermione," Tom's soft voice cautiously interrupted her observations.

Hermione turned her head and stared at him. And just like that the beautiful ocean didn't matter anymore and her memories rushed back to her. With them, her fear. Tom slid a bit closer to her as he saw the cold expression on her face.

"This is something you can't do," Hermione said, her voice heavy. "You can't threaten to give me away like some object you've grown tired of."

"I know," Tom quickly agreed. "It was stupid."

"It's not an abstract threat." She paused shortly before she added numbly, "Not for me."

Tom reached for her hand and held it gently. "I know."

He raised her hand and placed a tender kiss on her skin. Then his startlingly blue eyes wandered to her and he said softly, "It's different now."

Hermione creased her brow. Tom seemed to sense her doubt and threw her a tentative smile. "If someone tries to hurt you, you know enough curses to make them regret it."

"Maybe," whispered Hermione colourlessly.

Numbly, she stared at the horizon that the setting sun had painted in shades of red and orange. Far off in the distance, she could see a bird flying by, a dark dot against a sea of red.

"Do you really think my blood makes me inferior?" Hermione asked into the silence.

She glanced at Tom. The Slytherin sat beside her and his starkly blue eyes slowly wandered over her as if wanting to take in every little detail about her. Hermione waited for his answer, but he didn't say anything. Not even his expression gave anything away.

"You don't have to lie," Hermione whispered, trying to ignore the pressure that built behind her eyes.

Tom tilted his head, face still unreadable, and inquired, "Do  _you_  think you're inferior to Purebloods?"

Hermione pondered that for a moment. Since she had entered the magical world, everyone had told her she was worth less than Purebloods. And she had believed them.

"Not anymore," Hermione could finally say it out loud and a sense of relief washed over her.

Tom slightly inclined his head and replied quietly, "Neither do I."

"But it is a flaw? My parentage?"

Tom's mesmerizing eyes pierced into her as he stated, "You're powerful."

Hermione laughed mirthlessly, "Powerful but flawed."

Tom reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. Tightly, he held her. There was a possessive nature in the gesture that Hermione could not ignore.

"I think that Draco Malfoy is flawed," Tom said, voice composed. "because he is trapped in a world of centuries-old structures. Dolohov is flawed, because he cannot think for himself. Regulus Black is flawed, because he is a weak wizard and his cousin Bellatrix is flawed, because she is ruled by her urges and desires."

Hermione felt the warmth from Tom's hand seeping into her skin. It wasn't unpleasant. His hold grounded her in a strange way.

"And what is your flaw?"

A smirk curled the corners of his mouth as Tom heard the question. His blue eyes flashed to hers and he said, a strange inflection to his voice that Hermione couldn't place,

"I have many."

Hermione blinked up at him. Her brow furrowed slightly, pondering his answer – or not-answer. She turned away from Tom and looked out at the ocean. The sun was still a reddish colour as it kissed the horizon. Hermione felt how Tom still held her hand. She didn't pull away. After a while she commented softly,

"The sun is not moving."

Tom chuckled at that. "No, I wished for a sunset and that's what the room changed into."

Hermione nodded her head and told him tentatively, "The last time I've been by the sea that was ages ago."

"When the Malfoys went on a vacation?" Tom's deep voice asked.

She glanced at him and lightly shook her head. "I was there with my parents."

She saw Tom raising his eyebrows. She had never told him anything of her life before she had entered the magical world. Maybe he didn't want to hear and Hermione was not sure she wanted to talk about it.

"You don't know how it is, Tom," Hermione whispered softly. "To have no parents."

Tom studied her pensively before he sighed, "Sometimes I wish I did." Then he added dryly, "You've met my parents after all."

She peered up at him. "Well, they were quite…"

Tom smiled thinly. "I think 'dreadful' is the word you're searching for."

A hesitant smile stretched Hermione's own lips. "Maybe your father is a bit intolerant."

"What about my mother?" Tom inquired as he arched an elegant eyebrow.

"She's nice," Hermione replied firmly. "I really liked her."

"Nice?" Tom mused, tasting to word on his tongue. "Not the adjective I would use to describe her."

Hermione looked up at him and stated seriously, "I think she's a very selfless person."

Tom looked at her thoughtfully and Hermione felt trapped in his starkly blue eyes. She quickly averted her gaze and looked back at the ocean. After a while, she told him softly,

"You are lucky."

"How so?"

"Your parents are alive," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Maybe you don't get along well with them, but they are still here."

Hermione felt tears building up and quickly looked down at her hands in her lap. This was embarrassing. Why couldn't she just pull herself together? She jumped as suddenly an arm was wrapped around her shoulders and she was pulled into Tom's side. The heat of his body was calming and Hermione couldn't help but relax into his side.

"Tell me about your parents," Tom whispered while his fingers ran through her hair.

Hermione breathed in deeply. Then, without looking up at him, she let her memories take her, "They were just normal people. Dentists, you know. They had met at university. Then they got married and bought a practice in London. Moved into a house just… just fifteen minutes away." A smile flittered over Hermione's face. "It was a nice house. I loved it."

Her head leaned against Tom and breathed in his pleasant scent.

"Brick walls, small front yard," Hermione remembered her home and she found that her voice had gone quite shaky. "Mum always planted tulips in the garden, but somehow they never really grew. My dad would tell her to plant daffodils instead, but she was stubborn. In the end, each spring, he would buy her a bouquet of tulips."

Hermione felt her throat tie up and her voice died down. As she closed her eyes a few tears escaped from them. The arm around her tightened, then there were fingers gingerly wiping the tears away. Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at Tom. He scanned her with a completely blank look on his handsome face, but Hermione saw a soft shimmer in his blue eyes. Never looking away from him, she continued,

"I was nine when my first accidental magic happened. I was playing on the swing my dad had built for me on the back yard. I somehow lost control and fell. Instead of smashing into the ground, breaking my neck, I gently sailed down. It was a miracle." A small smile appeared on Hermione's face. "At least, that's what dad said." The smile quickly died. "It was the next day that they came for me. Snatchers. They just… just killed them. My mum and dad never knew why they had to die. And I wonder… if they had known, would they have blamed me?"

Tom reached out for her and hesitantly wiped a strand of her curly hair from her face.

"I don't think they would have," he told her gently.

Hermione shook her head. "No, they probably wouldn't." Then she averted her eyes from Tom and stared vacantly in front of her. "But without me, they would still be alive."

Tom pulled her closer against him. His hand was gingerly stroking over her back as he asked cautiously, "What happened after you got caught?"

A shiver went through Hermione's body and tags of memories flashed through her head.

"T- the Snatchers took me and… and some other kids they had caught and locked us away," Hermione whispered tonelessly. "We were left in that room for… days. I was scared. Everybody was scared."

"Then some men came to get us," she continued shakily. "One of them dragged me out of the room. I begged him to let me go. He just beat me then. And I cried."

Hermione forced her breathing to calm down. Still, she didn't look up at Tom. She preferred to have her eyes closed as she continued with her story, "They didn't explain. Never. No-one talked to me. I didn't know what was going on. I was dragged into another room. There were more children. I remember some of them were crying, like me. The men never cared. They used… strange sticks of wood to carve marks into the children's arms." A shudder ran through Hermione's body. "It hurt a lot. My arm was bleeding and another man pulled me away. Again I begged. That man didn't beat me. He waved that stick of wood and suddenly there was nothing but pain."

Hermione stopped and swallowed thickly. Images, feelings, smells were coming back to her. Memories of things she would rather forget. Cautiously she reopened her eyes. It cost her a lot to raise her face and look up at Tom. He was gazing back at her with his calm blue eyes. Hermione held on to that gaze as she continued,

"Again I was locked away with other children. The men would come back occasionally, taking one of us away. I came to fear them and their strange powers."

"One day, those men came for me," Hermione whispered, almost inaudibly. "They stripped me naked and forced me into strange clothes. After that… I was sold away like some piece of meat."

Tom nodded softly as he listened. His arm was wrapped tightly around Hermione's waist as he asked gingerly, "Where did you get sold to? The Malfoys?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. A trader. No-one buys an untrained servant."

"What happened then?"

She pressed herself against Tom, hiding her face in his chest, as she mumbled shakily, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Mhm," he crooned to her while he stroked reassuringly over her back.

Hermione stayed like that for a long time. Her memories were boiling right under the surface. Finally she whispered, "I can't go back there."

A gentle hand under her chin forced her to look up. Immediately, Hermione's eyes locked with Tom's and he inquired gingerly,

"Go back?"

Hermione breathed in shakily. "Don't make me go back there."

"Hermione, I shouldn't have said that. I am sorry," Tom quickly assured. "I would never allow you to get treated like that again."

Hermione swallowed thickly as she stared up at him. "What if you get bored of me? Then you'll just sell me."

"That is never going to happen," Tom soothed her, stroking her cheek. "I am never going to give you away."

Hermione heard honesty in his voice. She so wanted to believe him. To go back to being a slave would kill her. She looked up at Tom hopefully and demanded security,

"Promise."

A smile slid on Tom's face and he pulled her tightly against him.

"I promise."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Calm Death, God of crossed hands and passionless eyes,**

**Thou God that never heedest gift nor prayer,**

**Men blindly call thee cruel, unaware**

**That everything is dearer since it dies.'**

**\- George Pellew (*1859** **†** **1892)**


	26. Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Hello, my dear readers. This is not really a new chapter, but an additional scene for 'Please, save me'. I got a wonderful review for chapter 23 from WrittinInStone, which made me write this little extra scene. I hadn't planned anything like this, but I really liked the idea. So here is my interpretation of Hermione's and Tom's couple time alone.
> 
> I wasn't sure to put it here or in a separate story upload. Well, it ended up here. Too late now hehe
> 
> Enjoy… hopefully ^^ and review if you like, of course.
> 
> "Some romantic one on one Tom/Hermione time. Maybe Hermione can suggest a get-away over a break and get Tom to take her somewhere they can just be a couple. It would be different for Tom and I would enjoy seeing how he would react to something like that." - WrittinInStone

Tom tapped his fingers against the table top, feeling irritated as his gaze wandered over the revised schedule of the prefects rota. Being Head Boy sure got on his nerves sometimes. Tom still didn't understand why Dippet insisted that the prefects do rounds after curfew to catch any rule breakers. In Tom's humble opinion, the prefects weren't in any way more trustworthy than the other students. The whole thing was just a waste of his time.

On top of his work as Head Boy, Tom still had to complete that pointless essay for Carrow. Tiredly, he ran a hand through his hair, wishing to just curl up on his bed and forget all about his chores. Now that he thought on it, he also had to somehow get back at Anthony Rickett. The stupid Hufflepuff dared to spread some nasty rumours about the Knights. Of course, no-one had real evidence against the Knights. Tom always made sure of that. Oh, he really didn't want to deal with this insipid drama. He couldn't care less what the whole school thought of his Knights. Unfortunately, as their leader, he needed to deflect all those rumours from his person …no matter how true they might be. Tom groaned wearily and blinked listlessly down at his prefect rota.

His inner lament was interrupted by the door being opened. Tom looked up and saw Hermione bouncing into the Heads' common room, big smile on her face. He narrowed his eyes at her evidently good mood, feeling even more annoyed.

"Tom," Hermione chirped happily. "I've been searching for you."

Crinkling his nose at the smile on her face, Tom replied morosely, "What do you want?"

His suspicion heightened as Hermione blushed slightly, trying to look innocent, while she hid something behind her back. At least Tom's curiosity was piqued.

"What's that?" he inquired, motioning at her hidden hands.

Hermione grinned at him toothily and stepped closer to him. "The reason I've been searching for you."

With that the Mudblood pulled a magazine from behind her back and put it on the table in front of Tom, showing little respect for his prefects' schedule. Tom blinked down at the magazine and promptly furrowed his brow.

"This is  _Muggle_ ," he accused sharply.

Hermione nodded and, completely ignoring his outrage, cheerfully flipped the magazine open.

"Ron gave it to me," she told Tom merrily. "His dad works with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."

Feeling rather disgusted, Tom glared at the glossy magazine and its non-moving photos. Muggle technology was just useless, wasn't it?

"Why did you bring it to me?" he asked irritably.

Once again, the completely innocent smile slid back on Hermione's face and she fluttered her eyelashes at Tom. He groaned,

"What do you  _want_?"

She pointed at an article and gushed enthusiastically, "Look. Isn't that great? It sounds fantastic and I checked it out, it's not even that expensive."

Tom pursed his lips and reluctantly skimmed over the article. It was some inane chatter about hotel recommendations. He sneered down at the magazine.

"Why are you showing this to me?"

Hermione quickly put her finger on one of the tested hotels and explained happily, "Look at this one. It's in Seaton and very close to the beach. Just five minutes by foot. And the beach is really nice, too."

A deep frown appeared on Tom's forehead as he finally understood what the girl wanted. Sighing deeply, he voiced his rejection, "Hermione, I really don't thi-"

"I know… it's a Muggle hotel," she whispered hesitantly. "I just…"

Tom looked up at her and watched as the happy smile melted from Hermione's face. Her brown eyes were fixed on the photograph of the beach and he could see something wistful and sad clouding them. Then her gaze wandered to him. A despondent look darkened her features and Tom was annoyed as he felt a small stab in his chest. Hermione threw him a bleak smile.

"You're right. It's a stupid idea. It's just… Ever since you showed me the Room of Requirement, I just couldn't stop thinking about the beach."

Tom's eyes widened with comprehension. Gesturing at the picture, he said, "That's the beach you've been with your parents, isn't it?"

Hermione looked down at the magazine, thin smile curving her lips, and nodded. Tom sighed deeply. He really had neither time nor money for this. He glanced at the crestfallen look on Hermione's face and sighed again.

"Okay," Tom said reluctantly. "I guess I can make time for this. How about this weekend?"

Hermione stared at him in surprise and Tom was glad as he observed how the jaded look left her eyes and they sparkled at him again. A wide smile lit up Hermione's features.

"Really?"

Tom nodded slowly, wondering why the hell he agreed to this. Hermione laughed cheerfully. She wrapped her arms around Tom's neck and placed kisses all over his face.

"Thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah," Tom replied surly and pushed her away from him. "Now, leave me alone. I have work to do."

Hermione nodded and, still beaming widely, skipped out of the Heads' common room. Tom rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm. He wondered whom he would have to imperius to be able to afford that hotel.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Turned out, it was the receptionist of the hotel. Though, Tom only needed a little Confundus Charm and not an Imperius.

Feeling pleased with himself, he stepped into a large hotel room, closely followed by a very excited Hermione. It was the most expensive room of the hotel and rather lavishly furnished. Tom's gaze wandered over the huge, soft looking king-size bed and a smirk twisted his lips. At least he didn't have to actually pay for it, he thought maliciously as he put his duffle bag beside the bed.

Meanwhile, Hermione danced through the room, admiring it with wide eyes. Tom tried to hide his evil smirk. She was such a goody two-shoes sometimes, and would probably not approve of him basically stealing from the hotel.

"Oh, look at this bathtub," Hermione's excited voice trilled into Tom's ears. "It's really big."

Tom flopped down on the bed and watched as Hermione left the bathroom and happily skipped around the room, looking at the TV set and marvelling at the nice view from the balcony. She grinned cheerfully as she plopped down beside Tom on the bed.

"Did you see the restaurant downstairs? We could eat something," she chattered merrily away. "And I also saw that there's supposed to be a golf course around somewhere here. Did you ever play golf? I didn't. We should try it out. It's cheaper for hotel guests. Also, I think there's some kind of hiking trail around here. We could che-"

"Hermione," Tom interrupted her amusedly. "Didn't you want to come here because of the beach? We only stay the one night. How about we go down there now?"

And just like that, the happy smile slid from Hermione's face as if it had never been more than a thin façade. She breathed in deeply and stared down at her hands lying in her lap, lost look on her face. Tom was confused by her sudden change of mood.

"Hermione?" He slid closer to her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

She laughed nervously and glanced at him with watery eyes. Then she quickly avoided his eyes again. Tom raised a hand and clasped her chin so he could tilt her face up.

"Tell me," he ordered her sharply.

Hermione blinked at him, lips pressed into a thin line. Tom's fingers tightened their grip and he wished he could simply force her to talk. With Hermione, though, violence wouldn't have the desired effect. She would clam up even more. So Tom pushed his incensed magic away from her. Then he bent down and kissed her on the forehead before he released her again.

"You can tell me, you know," he said, attempting to sound gentle.

Hermione breathed in deeply as if trying to brace herself. She twisted her hands nervously. For a moment, it didn't look like she would ever reply anything, but then she started in a quavering voice,

"I haven't been here since I visited with my parents. I don't remember much from… before I entered the Wizarding World. But I  _do_  remember that beach. How I played in the water. And… and how I built a sand castle with my dad. Mum b- bought me ice cream. And I w- would nap on the towel under our beach umbrella…" She raised a trembling hand and rubbed it over her face. "Those were our last holidays. That year, they… they died."

Hermione's hand wandered to Tom and he felt how she tightly gripped his wrist. It was strange how her weakness didn't cause contempt to bubble up in him. Instead, seeing her sadness made white-hot anger rage in Tom. There was nothing he could do, though. No-one to curse. Tom could not travel into Hermione's past and make everything right. In the end, he knew that even if he could change her past, he wouldn't. All the things that had happened to her, had ultimately driven her into his arms.

"I'm scared," Hermione confessed quietly. "of seeing that beach again… I shouldn't have come."

Tom leaned back on his arms and eyed the Mudblood. She looked shaken with her pale face and wide eyes. Tom had to admit, he wasn't very good at comforting people, at least not in a sincere way. Unfortunately, Hermione would see right through it if he pulled any of his usual lies. In the end Tom told her,

"It's just a beach, Hermione."

It came out a lot more callously than he would have liked and he only managed to make Hermione sniffle pathetically. Frustration mounted up in him. This was way harder than he had expected, but telling her that she was being stupid would probably make everything even worse. Tom now regretted having brought Hermione here.

Maybe she could somehow sense his upcoming annoyance, because she now peered at him and whispered a soft, "I'm sorry."

Tom looked at her. She tried to hide it behind a thin smile, but he still saw the insecurity and sorrow on her face. Dealing with the Mudblood could be very tedious at times. Tom didn't reply anything, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her down with him so they ended up lying on the bed. He couldn't help put tighten his arm around her, possessively tugging her body into his side.

"I'll get you a new beach towel and an umbrella," he told her decisively. "It's not really the height of the season, but I'm sure I can find you some ice cream somewhere."

Hermione sniffed again tearfully, but then she nestled closer against him. Tom felt how she draped an arm around his chest, holding him tightly, and buried her face in his shirt. Her voice was muffled, but he somehow could hear a small smile in it as she asked,

"Are you also going to build a sand castle with me?"

Tom relaxed a bit. At least he had managed to calm her down. He raised a hand and gently ran his fingers through her curly hair.

"If you want me to," he conceded.

Hermione's arm tightened around him and she nodded, face still buried against him. A smirk slid on Tom's face. For a while, they just lay on the bed while Tom continued to rake his fingers through her hair and Hermione snuggled against him.

"I don't even have a swimsuit," she told him after some time.

Tom chuckled, "It's too cold to swim anyway."

"Hm." She raised her head and looked up at him, small smile hesitantly tugging at her lips. "Shall we go now?"

Tom wiped a strand of her curly hair behind her ear.

"Yes."

†

It was a beach: Sand, ocean, squawking seagulls and an unpleasant drizzle from the waves. Nothing special, really. Tom eyed the beach in disinterest while Hermione stood beside him, holding his hand in a vice-like grip. He could feel how she shivered slightly.

"Want to go closer?" he asked cautiously.

Hermione nodded, eyes fixed on the ocean while her lower lip trembled slightly. Tom pulled her from the pavement and down to the sand. The beach was empty. A distance away, Tom could make out a solitary jogger, but that was it. Not that he was surprised. The weather really left much to be desired. The sea looked decidedly uninviting as it lay before them in an ugly grey colour. The cold wind ripped at Tom and he just wanted to go back to the warm hotel room.

Hermione, though, had other plans. Stock-still she stood beside Tom and her eyes slowly wandered over the sand and the ocean, drinking in the dreary picture. To Hermione it didn't seem to be so dreary after all, because she breathed in deeply and suddenly there was a smile curving her lips. She turned her head and beamed up at Tom.

"It's beautiful."

Cold wind still ripping at his jacket and salt water assaulting his face, Tom was off another opinion. Still, he lied and said,

"Yes."

Hermione nodded, eyes flashing with excitement. "I forgot how wonderful it was."

Tom was satisfied that she had seemingly overcome her despondent mood. With a furrowed brow, he watched as Hermione then bent down, slipped out of her shoes and pulled off her socks.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione smiled up at him as she rolled up her trousers. "We have to get closer. Walk in the water."

As he continued to just look at her in displeasure, she tugged at his hand. "Come on."

"Why?" Tom inquired, bemused by her actions.

Hermione bent up again and shrugged, still smiling. "Because it's fun?"

Reluctantly, he eyed the ocean licking at the beach. The water still looked cold and unpleasant.

"Can I wait here?"

Hermione shook her head. "No."

Tom screwed up his nose, but still allowed her to pull him with her closer to the water. A contemptuous look slid on his face as he watched Hermione splashing with her feet around in the water while laughing softly. He shook his head and cast a quick Impervius Charm on his shoes and trousers. The girl threw him a reproachful look.

"You're missing out on the fun," she informed him.

"I'll survive," said Tom dryly.

Then he offered her his hand. In an instant, the smile was back on Hermione's face and she clasped his hand. Together they meandered down the beach. Hermione obviously enjoyed having the cold water freezing her feet. Now and then she stooped down to pick up a shell, smiling widely. Tom could only shake his head at her antics, but didn't comment.

Holding her hand tightly, he had to admit, though, it wasn't too horrible here.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}


	27. Post mortem

Hermione let her fingers run over Tom's exposed back, enjoying the softness of his skin. He was still sleeping. Hermione smiled down at him. His body beside her felt reassuring. And wasn't that strange, her feeling anything but fear and distrust in the presence of a wizard? Tom and her had come a long way. It was like a dream from a different life whenever Hermione remembered how she had met Tom. Oh, she had been so scared of him as they camped in the wilderness of Albania's forests. On more than one occasion, Hermione had been convinced Tom would kill her.

Her eyes wandered over Tom who was still innocently sleeping beside her on the bed, face pushed into the pillow. A grin stole on her face and Hermione lay on top of him. Tom was wonderfully warm under her bare skin. He wriggled slightly under the added weight of her body.

"Hermione?" came his sleepy voice.

"Yes?" she hummed amusedly.

Tom sighed and turned his head to the side. "I can't breathe."

Hermione buried her face into his black hair. "What? Are you saying I'm fat?"

"I would never," came Tom's reply and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Stay as long as you want."

"I intend to."

After a while of comfortably lying on Tom, the Slytherin spoke up again, "Hermione?"

"Hm?"

"You know, the Beltain ball is next week," he mentioned casually. "On Saturday."

Hermione rolled from him and sat up. Tom turned around so he lay on his back and gazed up at her with his starkly blue eyes.

"I completely forgot about the ball," Hermione said pensively. "I guess I'm glad you already bought that dress for me."

A smug smirk twisted Tom's lips. "You really are lucky I look out for you."

Hermione nudged his arm playfully and agreed melodramatically, "You sure are a Godsend."

"I'm glad you realize that," the Slytherin drawled arrogantly. As if gauging her reaction, he peered at her through the corners of his eyes. "You know you're going with me to the ball, don't you?"

Hermione snorted in amusement and let herself fall down on the bed beside Tom. She lazily trailed her fingers through his dark hair and admired the flawless skin of his face.

"Don't worry," Hermione told him teasingly. "I would never let you go to that ball without a date. How would that look?"

"Pff." Tom smirked at her, flashing his white teeth. "I'll have you know, every girl would jump at the opportunity to go on a date with  _me_."

Hermione pursed her lips sceptically. "Are you sure about that?"

Tom narrowed his eyes at the insinuation and Hermione laughed. She wiped the dark locks from his forehead and placed a kiss against his skin.

"You know," she told him, still smiling. "maybe you didn't notice, but they all think you're a bit creepy, actually."

He widened his eyes in faux indignation, but Hermione could see dark amusement lurking under the surface. She rolled her eyes at him and snuggled into his side. This was comfortable, this was nice, Hermione decided and a content smile played around her lips.

It was then that Hermione's eyes got caught on her school bag lying beside the bed and she remembered why she had ended up in Tom's room in the first place. She wriggled and twisted lazily until she could catch the bag's strap with her foot to angle it closer. Leaning against the head board, Hermione rummaged around her bag while Tom watched her idly. Finally, she found what she'd been searching for. Hermione threw Tom a smile which made him arch an elegant eyebrow, then she pulled a black, leather-bound book from the bag.

"Here," she said softly, offering him the small book. "It's for you."

Tom eyed the black book in her hand, bewildered, before he accepted it. Hermione worried her lower lip, feeling a bit nervous.

"I wanted to wrap it," she excused the lack of gift wrap.

He glanced at her in surprise. "It's a present? For me?" As Hermione nodded Tom asked, "Why?"

"No real reason," she said, face heating up a bit. "I bought it in Hogsmeade some time ago. I wanted to give it to you sooner, but then…"

That had been shortly before they had had that huge argument. Tom had been so angry with her and he had cursed her. Hermione shuddered at the thought. She didn't like remembering that day. Tom had used the Curciatus Curse and she had been scared of him again. The little black book had been far from her mind. Now, though… Hermione glanced at Tom, smiling softly. His fingers skimmed over the golden lettering she had charmed on the book's cover.  _Tom Marvolo Riddle_  the golden letters spelled.

"How do you even know my middle name?" he asked amusedly.

Hermione nudged him playfully in the side. "I'm not going to give away my source."

Tom glanced at her, eyebrow raised in question, but she didn't say anything further. Hermione smiled at him as he went back to examining the book. Tom flipped through it and, seeing the blank pages, asked,

"Is it a diary?"

"If you want it to be," replied Hermione. She skidded closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Do you like it?"

Tom's gaze wandered from the book in his hands to her. A slight smile curled his lips. Then he placed a kiss against her temple and whispered,

"Yes. Thank you."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione sat at a table in the Three Broomsticks and leered at the half-eaten slice of strawberry pie on Regulus' plate. Pursing her lips, she glanced at the Slytherin and asked innocently,

"Don't you want to eat that?"

Regulus threw her an amused look before he pushed the plate over to her. Hermione beamed at him and reached for the fork.

"Thanks," she mumbled, already munching on the pie.

"No problem." Regulus grinned as he watched her greedily shovelling the food into her mouth. "Still, you already had a slice, didn't you?"

Hermione shrugged. From experience, she knew how it was to go without food. She certainly wasn't going to let perfectly good pie go to waste. In record time, she finished the slice, licking the crumbs from her fingers. With her belly full, Hermione lazily leaned back in her seat. The Three Broomsticks was crowded as always during a Hogsmeade weekend, but not even the loud chatter of the other students could jostle Hermione from her sleepy state.

After some time, Regulus hesitantly broke the companionable silence between them, "Hermione? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you still together with Riddle?"

Hermione blinked in surprise, now feeling decidedly more awake. "Yes, of course. I thought it'd be obvious."

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. "He's a good actor."

"Why are you asking?" Hermione furrowed her brows.

"To be honest, Riddle never kept one girlfriend that long. So, I was wondering…" Regulus peered at her. "He doesn't somehow… blackmail you into staying, does he?"

Hermione looked at him, seeing the worry on his face. A soft smile curled her lips and she assured,

"No. He wouldn't." Doubt entered Regulus' eyes, so Hermione added, "I know why you ask. Honestly, I do. But… I trust Tom."

Regulus didn't seem to be convinced, but decided against prying. Sighing softly, he said, "Okay. If that's how you feel. Just be careful."

"Thank you. But I'm really fine," Hermione smiled at him. "And Tom's fine too." She pursed her lips and mused, "Actually, I wonder what's taking him so long. I told him to meet me here."

"Really?" Regulus replied, looking uncomfortable now. "What's he up to?"

"Oh, he had to go to Gladrags," Hermione said lightly. "Yesterday during Charms, the hem of my school robe got singed. I didn't notice at first. But you know how it is. Students need to keep their uniform in order. So, Tom went to get it fixed."

For a moment, Regulus just stared at her. Hermione raised her eyebrows, slightly confused by his apparent shock. He cleared his throat, still looking ruffled, and asked weakly,

"Riddle…  _Riddle_  is getting y- your clothes fixed?"

"Yeah." Hermione shrugged. "He said it wouldn't take long. I wonder where he is."

"I- I see," Regulus whispered, looking quite shaky.

She wanted to ask him why this surprised him so, but decided against it. Regulus was, with good reason of course, wary of talking about Tom. So, she steered the conversation away from Tom and towards the last Ancient Runes essay. As they discussed the essay, Regulus quickly lost the troubled look and again smiled easily. Hermione contently sipped from her tea as she watched the Slytherin.

It was some time later, that Tom finally showed up. Hermione instantly spotted him as he entered, a bag of Gladrags in his hand, and waved him over to their table. A look of annoyance flittered over Tom's handsome face as his gaze fell on Regulus. Still, he walked over to them. Regulus relaxed mood instantly evaporated as he saw the other Slytherin. Nervously, he straightened up in his seat and eyed Tom apprehensively.

Hermione, on the other hand, beamed widely. "Tom."

He nodded at her, before his gaze switched to Regulus. While Tom's expression didn't exactly change as he scanned the other Slytherin, there was something dark and menacing crossing his face. Regulus seemed to be able to see it too, because he shifted uncomfortably.

"Sit down," Hermione offered and patted the place beside her on the bench.

Gracefully, Tom slid down beside her and pushed the bag from Gladrags Wizardwear over to her.

"It's fixed," he stated curtly.

Hermione bent over to Tom and pecked him on the lips. "Thanks."

"Next time you're clumsy enough to burn something," Tom started in a surly tone. "I'm going to use a spell to fix it. There's no need to make such a fuss."

Instantly, Hermione protested, "You can't do that. I told you, the rules clearly state that students are not allowed to use any form of magic on the uniform. I read it up. You should know, you're Head Boy."

Tom merely rolled his eyes, obviously not willing to enter that discussion again. Instead he leaned back in his seat, arm lazily draped over the backrest, and scanned Hermione through his starkly blue eyes.

"So?" he prodded. "What've you been up to?"

Hermione skidded closer to him on the bench. Absently she played with a button of his cloak as she replied, "Not much. Got the new quill. Then I met Regulus."

"Ah, yes.  _Regulus_ ," Tom said in a saccharine sweet tone

His gaze left Hermione and travelled to the other Slytherin. There was an easy smile on Tom's face, but it was betrayed by the layer of frost covering his eyes.

"Regulus, what a coincidence," Tom allowed. "Tell me, what exactly are you doing here, alone… with my girlfriend?"

His bland voice couldn't completely hide the threatening undercurrent of his question. Hermione saw Regulus' eyes widening. He paled considerably while he desperately searched for an answer. His fingers trembled as he clutched his teacup. Hermione directed a reproachful look at Tom. He didn't pay her any attention, but fixed Regulus with an intimidating glare.

"Tom," Hermione said, tugging at his sleeve to gain his attention. "You know he's my friend, don't you?"

Tom's frosty blue eyes came to rest on her and he declared, sharp edge to his words, "Maybe I don't like that."

Hermione blinked up at the menacing look on his face. Not at all impressed, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and replied firmly,

"Maybe I don't care."

Through the corners of her eyes, she saw Regulus flinch at her insolent reply. Tom simply glared at her. His magic bristled forebodingly in the air, though Hermione noted that he kept it away from her Dark Mark. Regulus, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky and Tom's magic wrenched at him viciously.

"Regulus is my friend," Hermione clarified sharply.

Tom pressed his mouth in a thin line as if holding back a harsh reply. Then he seemed to regain his composure and his angry magic abated. An easy smile curled his lips as he conceded lightly,

"If you insist." Tom turned to Regulus and a menacing tint entered his disturbingly polite voice as he warned, "I hope you understand that Hermione extends an offer of  _friendship_  only. So, if you ever get too close to her or even touch her, you can be sure she won't be able to stay my hand again."

"Y- yes, of course," Regulus stuttered, clearly afraid of Tom.

Tom's attention left the other Slytherin and returned to Hermione. The threatening aura dropped from him in an instant and he flashed his teeth in a charming smile. Hermione rolled her eyes. Tom  _really_  could be creepy at times. Before she could comment on his behaviour, though, Regulus said, voice trembling ever so slightly,

"I- I think it's better I go now."

"What?" Hermione said, turning towards him. "No, please. You don't have to leave."

Regulus smiled at her softly, though she could see him scanning Tom from the corners of his eyes.

"I have to go to Potage's anyway. My old cauldron is almost rusted through."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said reluctantly. "I'll see you later, then."

As if he had waited for that dismissal, Regulus hastily stood up. His hands trembled as he put a few coins on the table to pay his bill. Then he threw Hermione a nervous smile, before he quickly left. She watched his form weaving though the pub until he left. Then Hermione's attention wandered to Tom.

"You scared him away."

"He's a coward," Tom returned, tone unapologetic. "You shouldn't spend time with him."

Hermione glared at him and chided, "Why do you have to treat your friends so horribly?"

Tom snickered darkly and replied, "They are not my friends."

She frowned at him. "Then why do you spend time with them?"

Tom cocked an elegant eyebrow and surveyed her through blue eyes. "They can be rather useful."

"For what?" Hermione inquired suspiciously.

A vile smirk tucked at Tom's lips. "There are things I can't do or don't want to do, here they come in handy." His white teeth flashed as he laughed darkly. "After all, as Head Boy I can't very well be involved in anything…  _untoward_. My followers, though-"

" _Followers_?" Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust as she tasted that word.

Tom nodded lazily and stated, clearly trying to get a rise out of her, "They like to be ordered around even more than you do."

"I see," Hermione fumed through gritted teeth.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, faux innocence in his voice.

"Nothing," she replied in a clipped voice.

"Hm." Tom as he scanned her interestedly. "Are you sure? You look like something is bothering you."

Hermione bristled as she heard his amusement and snapped at him waspishly, "Why should I be bothered? Obviously everything goes just swimmingly for you."

At her sharp tone, the amusement dropped from Tom and he warned, "Hermione."

She shook her head and lacerated, "Don't 'Hermione' me."

Tom's eyes widened in surprise. Hermione ignored it and continued, sarcasm harshly warping her voice,

"Of course everything's fine. You are treating your so-called friends like toe rags and use them to do your  _evil_  deeds. Whyever would that be disconcerting?"

Tom furrowed his brow. Hermione hoped he was affecting that confusion and wasn't really befuddled that his behaviour came across as shady.

"So, now you have pity on those guys?" he sneered. "Don't forget how they treated you… how  _Malfoy_  treated you. Don't you think they deserve the same treatment."

Hermione just snorted as she heard it. "What kind of stupid argument is that?"

Tom was visibly taken aback by her tone. He needed a few seconds to get over it, then he asked, "You really don't think Draco Malfoy deserves it to be at my beck and call after all the years he treated you like dirt?"

"Please, Tom," Hermione scorned. "Don't tell me you are treating your Slytherin buddies like shit, just to  _avenge_  me. Come on, that would be a big fat lie, wouldn't it?"

Tom blinked at her and after a moment remarked contemplatively, "You know, I liked you more back then when you didn't talk and just did as you were told."

For a second, Hermione just glared at him and seriously considered cursing him. She just wanted to pull her wand as that smooth mask on Tom's face cracked. His lips twitched traitorously, trying to fight against a smirk. Hermione spied a teasing glint in his eyes and her anger died down. She shook her head at him, now grinning herself, and shoved him.

"You're horrible."

Tom just shrugged. His gaze wandered to the coins Regulus had left on the table and he commented lightly,

"I think your rich friend paid for you as well." He smirked at Hermione. "See, Black has his uses."

Hermione scowled at him darkly, but chose to not linger on the subject any longer. Instead she grabbed the bag with her robe and stood up.

"Let's go?" she asked Tom. "I need a bit of fresh air."

Tom nodded agreeably and followed her out of the pub. Hermione was deep in thought as they meandered through Hogsmeade. Her thoughts still danced around what Tom had said about his friends or  _followers_. He didn't seem to like any of them. Wasn't he lonely sometimes? He didn't even like his own family. Hermione worried her lip as she glanced up at the Slytherin walking beside her. Tom noticed her attention and cocked an eyebrow at her.

Hesitantly, Hermione asked, "Why do you dislike your family so much?"

Tom's face darkened at the mention of his parents. Quickly, Hermione tried to appease him, "I mean… I can see why you might not get along so well with your dad. When I met him, he was a bit…  _difficult_. But your mother was really kind. Why are you so angry with her?"

The dark scowl didn't leave Tom's face. His starkly blue eyes bored into Hermione, making her shuffle nervously. Just as she thought he wouldn't reply anything at all, Tom spat venomously,

"My mother is a liar."

Hermione could feel his upcoming magic storm around him viciously. Still, she dared to ask, "When did she lie to you?"

Tom pressed his mouth into a thin line and let his sinister magic crackle in the air. As he spoke, his voice was tightly controlled, but something dark lurked at the edges,

"My  _dear mother_  never told me anything about the wizarding world. Before I got the letter from Hogwarts I had no idea that wizards even existed."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and she stared at him. "You didn't know?"

Tom angrily kicked at a pebble lying on the street. "Not a thing."

Hermione knitted her brow in confusion. Merope was a witch herself. Why hadn't she said anything?

"But… but what about your accidental magic? How did your parents explain that?"

A harsh laugh left Tom. "They didn't."

"Oh." Hermione mumbled and looked at him in concern.

She remembered her first accidental magic. It had been such a strange occurrence, hardly something that could be overlooked. Not even Hermione's parents had been able to explain it. Just a day after that, Snatchers had found her and taken her away. Hermione shuddered at the memory. Tom's cold voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"In kindergarten, our group had that rabbit," he told her stiffly. "It was some kind of a mascot."

She frowned up at him, not really knowing where this was going. Tom ignored her quizzical look and continued,

"One of the kids, Billy Stubbs, he really liked that rabbit. Though he didn't like me very much…"

Tom's icy blue eyes were free of emotion as they gazed down at her. He smiled an empty smile and said, "Billy… he just wouldn't leave me alone."

Catching the dark undercurrent in his voice, Hermione asked tentatively, "What happened?"

"The other kids were playing in the yard as Billy decided to annoy me." Slightly Tom's brow furrowed at the memory. "I was quite…  _angry_. So, I went inside and ended up in our group's room. And there it was, that stupid rabbit."

Tom shrugged. "I don't know how I did it, but somehow my anger fuelled my magic. The rabbit died and its body reappeared, hanging from the rafters." A disturbing smirk washed over his face as he ended, "Billy was very distraught."

Hermione blinked up at Tom's calm face and stuttered, "That is… well… quite  _advanced_  magic, don't you think?"

Again Tom shrugged. His eyes disinterestedly wandered over a shop window. Hermione was troubled by his detached behaviour.

"Did no-one… er… suspect you?"

Tom's gaze wandered back to her. Twisted amusement hovered over his features as he drawled, "Oh, they did. But how to prove it?" A melodious laugh left him. "I think my mother knew. But she never said anything either. Do you want to go in here?"

Tom gestured at the shop they just passed. Zonko's, the sign said. The inside was packed with students. Hermione shook her head.

"Hm. We could go to Tomes and Scrolls." Tom scanned her pensively. "What do you want to do?"

"Yeah, sounds nice," Hermione replied, thoughts still circling around his story.

Tom reached for her and Hermione felt his fingers curling around her hand. He held her gently while he steered her through the other students.

"You know, after that incident with the rabbit, Billy Stubbs never tried to tease me again," Tom continued his previous story.

"I'm not surprised," whispered Hermione wryly.

He cocked an eyebrow but didn't reply. Quickly they reached Tomes and Scrolls. The bookshop wasn't as crowded as the Three Broomsticks had been and Hermione sighed in relief. Tom pulled her towards a shelf of books of the darker variety and scanned through the titles. While he browsed, he continued his story as if they had never been interrupted,

"Billy Stubbs left me alone, but that didn't stop the other kids from teasing me."

Hermione peered at him. "Why did they do that?"

Tom furrowed his brow and then admitted, "I have no idea."

He mulled that over for a moment before he explained with warped cheerfulness, "Dennis and Amy were the worst of them. They were downright intolerable. Their teasing peaked during a trip of our kindergarten group to the seaside. I hadn't done anything to them but Dennis and Amy wouldn't leave me alone."

Tom pulled a thick book from the shelf. Flipping through the pages, he continued lightly, "They pushed me, tugged my hair and twisted my arm. I got really furious and somehow my magic took us away. The three of us reappeared in a cave. The sea had formed it into the steep cliff."

"You apparated?" Hermione asked in surprise.

Tom shook his head. "Not consciously. Anyway, Dennis and Amy freaked out and both cried." Vile self-satisfaction appeared on his face. "They became  _very_ boring. So, I left."

"How?"

Tom smirked evilly. "My magic again helped me out. A Muggle couldn't have left that cave without being a very accomplished mountaineer, actually." He returned the thick book back to the shelf and sighed softly, "From there on it went downhill."

"What do you mean?"

Tom peered at her with dull eyes and said, "After some time the kindergarten teacher noticed Amy and Dennis were missing. She panicked and finally called the police. They actually alerted the coastguard. At that point our parents had been phoned and one by one they dropped by to get their kids."

"Did your parents get you as well?" Hermione wondered, thinking of Merope Riddle.

Tom's voice grew icy cold as he replied, "They both did. I swear, the whole two hour drive home, no-one said a word. I don't know why they were all so upset. I mean, they found Amy and Dennis before the flood completely drowned that cave."

At that Hermione threw in a sharp breath of air. "They could have died?!"

Tom only glared at her and informed irately, "They  _didn't_."

As he continued, the anger left his voice and was replaced by bitterness, "As we arrived at Little Hangleton, my father immediately started to yell at first me and then my mother. Then I was sent to my room where I could hear them arguing till late into the night."

For the first time in this conversation, Tom couldn't meet Hermione's eyes. His voice was strangely soft as he said, "After that my parents sent me away to…"

He stopped and stared down at his hands. Hermione reached out for him and gently held his hand. Gingerly, she asked,

"Where did they send you?"

Reluctantly, Tom's blue eyes looked up at Hermione. She pressed his hand encouragingly as she saw the insecurity swimming in his eyes. Tom's voice was very soft as he whispered,

"To a mental hospital."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she exclaimed horrified, "What?"

"My mother did nothing," Tom said, gloom in his tone. "She knew I was not crazy and yet she stepped back and allowed my father… the disgusting  _Muggle,_  to commit me to that institution."

"It wasn't your fault, though," Hermione said, shocked by his parents' behaviour. "It was accidental magic. You couldn't have stopped it."

Tom shrugged. "My father didn't care. He always thought magic was something bad. He probably hoped the doctors would lock me away forever. Or he hoped they would simply sedate me, so I could never use any magic again."

"But… but…" Hermione stuttered. "You are not insane. You are just a wizard. I'm sure the doctors quickly realized that you are fine."

"My father is rich, you know," Tom replied, voice acerbic. "And it so happens that he is one of the sponsors of that hospital."

"Didn't your mother try to get you out of there?"

Tom just sneered at her. "No. Never. I was there for two years. After they released me, I still had to see a psychiatrist at least once a week. And I had to go back to the clinic every time I had a… relapse."

Hermione stared at him, shock washing over her.

"I was eleven when I realized that I was not crazy," Tom said in a disturbingly light voice. "That was the day I got the letter from Hogwarts."

Hermione stared at his eerily calm face and commented, "Well, that explains a lot."

Instantly Tom's brow furrowed and he asked suspiciously, "Like what?"

Hermione pursed her lips and averted her gaze while quickly assuring, "Nothing, Tom."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom's story, though terrible of course, didn't really come as a surprise to Hermione. She had always known – maybe even since she first met Tom at Malfoy manor – that there was something strange about him, something not right. Now that she knew, Hermione was painfully disappointed in Merope Riddle. She should have known better and protected Tom.

With those troubling thoughts circling her mind, Hermione gazed at Tom. He had fallen asleep on the sofa in the Heads' common room, book lying on his chest. His head had fallen to the side and a few strands of his black hair fell lightly into his sleeping face. She had to admit he looked quite adorable like this. Hermione felt fiercely protective of him and she promised herself that she wouldn't fail Tom like Merope had done.

Her new quill in hand, she returned to her essay. A strange shine coming from the fireplace disturbed her concentration. Hermione looked up and with wide eyes watched as the orange flames turned green and suddenly a head appeared, hovering in the magical fire. Handsome pale features were framed by long black hair while grey eyes glinted merrily as they came to rest on Hermione.

"Hiya," Sirius Black greeted, grinning widely.

Hermione nervously threw a look at Tom but he was still sleeping. Cautiously, she crept over to the fireplace and knelt before it.

"Er…" she stuttered confusedly. "Hello?"

"Tsk tsk." Sirius still grinned happily. "Not the enthusiastic welcome I expected."

"I- I'm sorry," Hermione whispered as not to wake Tom. "But what are you doing here? If someone sees you…"

The head in the fireplace didn't seem much disturbed by his possible discovery. Instead Sirius pointedly looked at the snoozing Slytherin.

"That your man?" he inquired curiously.

Hermione nodded, throwing him a stern look. Sirius ignored it expertly and remarked smilingly, "Sleepy fellow, eh?"

"It  _is_  rather late, you know," Hermione remarked. "Why are you here? This is dangerous."

Sirius cleared his throat and bestowed her with a radiant smile. "Why, I wanted to see my favourite Hogwarts student, of course."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his flattery. Then she inquired suspiciously, "How did you know I'd be in the Heads' common room?"

"Well, I  _did_  try the Gryffindor tower first," Sirius explained nonchalantly. "but there was just this red-headed girl, stuffing her face with chocolate frogs." At Hermione's fear-widened eyes he added, "She didn't see me. Lupin told me you like to spend time with your sweetheart who is Head Boy. So… I checked here. Glad I didn't walk in on anything…"

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, but Hermione decided to not encourage his juvenile behaviour. Her frosty look made Sirius throw her the puppy-dog eyes.

"Anyway," he continued. "How're you?"

Hermione anger at his reckless behaviour subsided as she heard the concern hidden behind his offhand question. A soft smile playing around her lips, she said,

"I'm fine. I'm really fine, actually."

"That's good."

Hermione arched her eyebrows, her worry rushing back to her. "Everything alright on your end as well?"

"Oh, not to worry." Sirius grinned at her. "I'm good. Werewolves are crazy as usual. That's actually why I wanted to speak with you."

Hermione furrowed her brow, "About the werewolves?"

"Nah, about one particular werewolf," Sirius elaborated. "Lupin's on a mission at the moment. He won't be back for some time."

"Oh." Hermione felt an inappropriate sense of abandonment. "But he  _will_  return, yes?"

"Yeah, no worries," was Sirius' casual reply. "But as long as he's gone, he wanted me to keep an eye on you."

"I… er… He really said that?" Hermione mumbled, blushing slightly.

Sirius laughed at her. "Sure did. We both want you to be safe, Hermione." His easy-going attitude then completely left him as he added, "So, if anything happens, you contact me. You hear me?"

Hermione nodded, a warm feeling comfortably wrapping around her. Sirius sent her a smile and said, "I'll check in on you from time to time."

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled, smiling softly.

Sirius' gaze shortly flickered to the still sleeping Tom. Then he again scanned Hermione searchingly. "Your bloke's watching out for you as well, I assume?"

"Y- yes…" Hermione blushed deeply.

Sirius smirked at her knowingly, but didn't comment further. He eyed Hermione for a moment and the easy smile melted from his face. Then he gingerly asked,

"Did you have time to think about my offer?"

Instantly, Hermione felt nervousness fluttering in her stomach. Worrying her lip, she made sure, "Whether I want to join the Order?"

The man in the fireplace sent her an encouraging smile and nodded. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably and before she could say anything Sirius soothed,

"I know it's a difficult decision and I don't want to push you. I can see that you're happy at Hogwarts. I've been happy there, too. You deserve this, Hermione." A grim expression washed the smile from Sirius' face. "I really wish I didn't have to ask this of you. Merlin knows, you've gone through enough already."

"I… I…." Hermione stuttered pathetically. "I really  _do_  want to help, it's just…"

"It's a lot, I ask. Believe me, I know," Sirius reassured as his gaze wandered over a shaken Hermione. "A lot would change for you. You'd need to leave Hogwarts behind… your friends, too. Life on the run isn't exactly fun. Quite risky, actually, even with Greyback's pack backing us." A weak smile dared to curl his lips and he added, "But we could change things.  _You_  could change things. And things need to be changed, Hermione."

"I know," she whispered softly, her fingers clenching around the hem of her uniform skirt.

"Just promise me that you'll at least consider it," Sirius asked gingerly. "And if you decide against it, I'll understand. Either way, we won't let you down. Okay?"

Hermione peered at him nervously. "O- okay."

The smile on Sirius' face widened. "That's all I wanna hear."

He shortly turned away as if something at his side of the fireplace had distracted him, before he looked at Hermione again. "Okay. Looks like I gotta go." The teasing grin was back on his face as he teased, "I'll leave you two lovebirds to it. But you call me when something comes up."

Hermione nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you."

With that Sirius head disappeared and the fire's green flames turned orange again. Hermione sat in front of the fireplace and released a long breath of air. Sirius' request spun through her head, making her dizzy. Of course, she should join the Order. Hermione wished she could help all the other Muggleborns out there. But she was so scared. She was no fighter. How would she be able to help? What if she ruined everything? And… what about the life she would have to leave behind?

Hermione sighed, her heart heavy in her chest. She turned her head slightly and glanced at Tom. A small smile flittered over her face as she took in his sleeping form. She just wanted to stay here with him and go to school and not throw herself into a battle that they were likely to lose …but could she do that? Refuse to help?

Subconsciously, Hermione fiddled with the potion bottle in her pocket. Was she prepared to take the Polyjuice potion for the rest of her life? To play the role of Hermione Rookwood? She would be a lie, a fraud, happily living her life while others suffered…

Slowly, Hermione got up from where she knelt on the floor and stepped over to the sofa. Tom was still fast asleep, so Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

"Tom, wake up."

Tom grumbled something unintelligible and rolled onto his side, never opening his eyes. Hermione smiled softly at his antics before she gave his shoulder another nudge. Groaning softly, Tom's eyes blinked open and looked up at her. A feeling of safety rushed through Hermione as she stared into his startlingly blue eyes. She raised a hand and wiped a stray strand of hair from Tom's face.

Almost she brought up Sirius' request, but in the end Hermione just said, "Good, you're awake. We should really have a go at our Astronomy project."

Tom blinked at her, slowly waking up. Then he checked his watch.

"Damn!" he exclaimed and sat up on the couch. "It's almost midnight." His blue eyes shot at her and he accused, "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

Hermione just shrugged at him and deadpanned, "Thought you still needed your beauty sleep."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. Cursing under his breath, he got up and started to collect his books, parchment and the Astronomy chart. He stuffed everything in his bag while he asked distractedly,

"Could you go up to my room and grab the telescope?"

"Sure," Hermione replied amusedly.

She climbed up the stairs and walked into Tom's room and quickly located the telescope. Disassembled, it rested in its wooden box on Tom's desk. Hermione closed the lid and carried the box downstairs. Tom was just closing his bag, finally having collected everything necessary. He slung the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder before he stepped over to her.

"Here, let me carry that," Tom offered and took the heavy box with the telescope from Hermione.

Then he strode over to the door. She followed him. On her way she picked up her own school bag. They walked through the semi-dark corridors, up towards the Astronomy Tower. Tom seemed to still be half asleep and yawned quite a lot. Hermione peered up at him and smiled.

"You know, it's quite convenient that you're Head Boy," she told him. "Otherwise we would have needed to get a permission form from professor Sinistra for wandering the corridors at night."

"Mhm," hummed Tom and rubbed his eyes.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Why are you so tired anyway? It's Sunday, you could have slept in."

"Maybe," Tom admitted. "but I had to go to the library early and check something."

Hermione could guess what exactly he had needed to check. Smiling up at him, she asked,

"So? Did you find anything new on Hufflepuff's object? Or maybe even Gryffindor's"

Tom groaned softly as he heard her question. "No. Nothing. It's rather frustrating actually."

"Well," Hermione teased gently. "We Gryffindors are not so easy to suss out."

"Yeah, sure," Tom scorned. "Just keep telling yourself that."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The Beltain ball was only two days away and slowly Hermione was beginning to look forward to it. It would be the first ball she ever attended as a guest. Her black dress was waiting in her dorm, lying carefully folded in her trunk. Maybe it was a cheap dress, but it would be the fanciest outfit Hermione had ever worn. Tom had promised to accompany her to the ball, so she would definitely not feel awkward or alone. Her friends would be there as well, Hermione thought happily as she sat in the Great Hall and listened to Ginny. Her friend tried to convince her to come to a little get-together after the actual ball. As usual, there was going to be a lot of Firewhiskey involved.

"How about this time you leave the Head Boy out of it?" Ginny suggested, grinning innocently at Hermione.

Hermione glanced at her friend and accused, "You just don't like Tom, do you?"

"Yeah. Thought that'd be obvious by now." The red-head shrugged, completely unapologetic.

At Hermione's reproachful look, Ginny draped an arm around her shoulders and soothed, "I'm sorry, Hermione. You're my friend, you know that, yes? But Riddle?" She shuddered theatrically. "I don't like him. He doesn't like me… There's nothing to be done. You tried, you failed. What can I say?"

Hermione sighed loudly. Ginny patted her on the head, grin playing around her lips, before she turned back to her scrambled eggs. Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to tell Ginny how nice Tom could be, but then just decided against it. Her friend was probably right. Tom didn't like Gryffindors either. It was a lost cause. Sipping her tea, Hermione watched as the owls flew into the hall and circled until they spotted the addressee of whatever post they delivered. Hermione didn't give them much thought, never having received any letter.

So, she was quite surprised as a brown owl sailed down to the Gryffindor table and elegantly landed in front of Hermione. Frowning slightly, she took the roll of parchment from the bird's leg. Who would sent her a message? Ginny temporarily stopped to stuff her face with food and raised her eyebrows at her.

"Who'sh tha' from?"

Hermione shrugged. "No idea."

Cautiously, she unrolled the parchment. As she read, the frown on her forehead deepened and deepened.

' _Ms Rookwood,_

_I am very regretful to drag you into this. Believe me, if I could see any other way, I would not bother you. In the end, though, I'm afraid you are the only one I can approach with this problem._

_I know that you are aware of a secret group which is striking nothing but terror within Hogwarts' walls. I am, of course, speaking of the Knights of Walpurgis. I assure you, Ms Rookwood, that the Knights are a very dangerous association. They are far from being a group of mindless students, wanting to prank people or cause harmless mischief. They have much more sinister aims and they do not shy away from using violence to achieve them. I am stressing this point because I want you to see the Knights for what they truly are._

_Ms Rookwood, everything that the Knights are revolves around their leader. He is the heart, the driving force and the mind behind them. His darkness, his cruelty is what pulls and binds others to him. I am aware that he is something entirely else to you. I don't know if the person he is to you is a lie or just a different side of him. It might not even matter, because that terrible and merciless man he is when you are not around is very real._

_A few weeks ago, I had the fortune – or maybe it was a misfortune – to learn of a plan which directly involves the Knights' leader. I am very sure he keeps it a secret even from his followers. His plan involves the collection of powerful and invaluable objects. Maybe you have seen one or two of them, I wouldn't know. I, at least, have glimpsed a necklace with a golden locket._

_I am powerless to stop him. I have seen too much, am too deep into this. Maybe I'm a hypocrite for even trying. Maybe you won't believe me; maybe you don't care. I hope you do._

_Horcruxes. He is planning to create one or more._

_Beyond that, if he succeeds, what will stop him?_

_Ms Rookwood, I hope you find a solution where I could not. I remain respectfully yours,_

_R.A.B.'_

Hermione stared down at the letter in her hand. What was this? Who was this R.A.B.? Her stomach twisted into a knot as she again scanned the text. Whoever they were, they knew frighteningly much about Tom. Of course, Hermione was aware of the Knights of Walpurgis and she hated how Tom was involved with them. Was this letter a subtle threat? Hermione wondered and gnawed at her lower lip. If this R.A.B. person went to a professor with information about the Knights, Tom would be in trouble. Again Hermione's eyes flew over the last part of the letter. Desolation was hidden behind the words. Was the writer desperate? Why? Hermione shook her head.

Horcruxes? Was that supposed to tell her something?

†

Throughout the day, R.A.B.'s letter, although written on thin paper, weighed heavily in Hermione's robe pocket. All happy thoughts of any balls or nice dresses had fled Hermione's mind as she sat alone in the library after classes. She had not told Tom about the mysterious letter. Her silence gnawed at her. She should have told him right away, warned him. Still, she sat at the library table, alone, with a pile of books spread out in front of her.

_Horcruxes_. The word alone held no meaning to her, but something in that letter made her wonder and hesitate to confide in Tom. Hermione was angry with herself. She  _trusted_  Tom. She did. But there was a traitorous feeling wrenching at her since she read that letter. Hermione didn't even want to name that feeling, but it drove her into the library and the Restricted Section without ever talking with Tom. Whoever R.A.B. was, he had started something.

Now here Hermione was and felt as if she betrayed Tom by reaching for one of the dark tomes. There was a sinister curse was woven over it that Hermione had to disable before she could flip the book open. Although, she felt horribly guilty for doubting Tom like this, she started to read.

' _This, my friend, is the gift I bestow upon you. If you accept, there will be no turning back. Some poor misguided souls might proclaim it can be undone, but you and I know that is heresy. Who would want to renounce such a blessing in the first place? Who would want to submit themselves to Death's cruel reign? Follow me and you will be free, my friend._

_Post mortem nihil est.'_

Hermione furrowed her brow.  _'Death's cruel reign'_? What did that mean? As she continued to read, her bewilderment turned into horror.

' _Utter the spell and it will sunder your soul. Drink the potion and let it lead the parted soul. Your magic will be your shield, but your determination will be your sword. Never falter, never doubt. There shall be nothing clouding your resolve. As final component you will need a sacrifice. Death never gambles and never relinquishes what is his. If you want to escape his grasp, you need to offer him another life in return. It does not matter whose life you end – be it family, friend or foe – Death cares not as long as you give him his payment._

_As soon as the heart of the sacrifice stops, the deal is struck. Part of your soul will have left your body and resides in the chosen receptacle. As long as that receptacle is protected, your soul will remain earthbound, tethered to this world even if your body is destroyed. Death will honour your agreement and will not touch you._

_A Horcrux is a sacred thing. Always keep it safe. Treat it as you treat yourself, for it is a part of you._

_Ipsaque mors nihil.'_

Hermione felt sick and for the first time had to force herself to read a book. Nausea was mounting up in her as she went through the author's instructions. Horcruxes, she realized, were a vicious creation. The magic behind them was dark and cruel. Hermione had never read about something so dark and sinister. It was magic that should never be touched.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Post mortem nihil est ipsaque mors nihil,**

**velocis spatii meta novissima.**

**spem ponant avidi, solliciti metum:**

**tempus nos avidum devorat et chaos.**

**mors individua est, noxia corpori**

**nec parcens animae.'**

**\- Seneca**

**(*4 BC † 65 AC)**

' _There is nothing after death, and death itself is nothing,_

_the final goal of a course full swiftly run._

_Let the eager give up their hopes; their fears, the anxious:_

_greedy time and chaos engulf us altogether._

_Death is a something that admits no cleavage,_

_destructive to the body and unsparing of the soul.'_

_(transl. Frank Justus Miller, 1917)_


	28. My True Element

Hermione sequestered herself away in the library and pored over the darkest books she had ever opened. It was only one topic she hunted through the books' pages: Horcruxes. The more she read, the worse it got. Ritual murder, dark magic, violence and blood were the foundations that held together the Horcrux and simultaneously twisted the soul into something unnatural. With growing fear and revulsion, Hermione read the old scripts. Who would ever follow this path? Who would be desperate enough? One answer spooked through her head as if whispered into her ear by the ghostly voice of RAB,

_Tom Riddle._

Hermione's fingers tightened around the book and she felt its dark magic thrumming under her fingertips.  _Magick Moste Evil_  was a book that certainly kept what the title promised.

…but Tom wasn't  _really_  going to do it, was he?

Hermione closed her eyes and ran a shaky hand over her face. Tom wouldn't go and murder someone in cold blood. Not the Tom she knew so well. Only recently, he had dared to open up and trusted her enough to tell her about his childhood. They were so close, Tom wouldn't…  _couldn't_  hide something like this from her.

Hermione closed  _Magick Moste Evil_  and stared down at the book cover with empty eyes. RAB's letter, which still sat in her robe pocket, told her of a very different Tom Riddle and Hermione was having doubts. Merlin help her, but she  _doubted_  Tom. RAB had woven a picture of a much darker Tom and Hermione couldn't deny the truth behind those words. She had seen Tom using people when it benefitted him. Sometimes he threatened them and sometimes he used violence and fear to get what he wanted. Never, though, had she seen him show remorse over his actions.

Still, wouldn't Tom shy away from something like a Horcrux?

Frustration was welling up in Hermione as she stared at the book in her hands. She was wasting her time here. The library had told her everything it could offer and more than Hermione had ever wanted to know about Horcruxes. There was really only one thing left to do.

Reluctantly, she stood up from her seat and, with a flick of her wand, sent all the books back to their places on the shelves. Only  _Magick Moste Evil_ remained in her hand. She didn't even know why, but she slipped the book into her robe pocket. There was a numb feeling of guilt gnawing at her as she left the library without checking the book officially out.

On her way to the Slytherin common room, everywhere Hermione met students with happy smiles on their faces. The whole castle seemed to be bustling with carefree people, their only worry finding a date for the upcoming ball. Hermione ached to join them, but couldn't. Dark thoughts swam through her mind as she descended the stairs to the dungeons.

Just a corridor away from the Slytherin common room, Hermione stumbled upon Tom. Casually, he leaned against the corridor wall and talked with Bellatrix Black. As Hermione stepped closer Tom's gaze flicked to her, and her tense body automatically relaxed as she spotted a small smile curling his lips. It was strange under the circumstances, but Tom's presence still made her feel secure.

"Oh, look, Tom, your little girlfriend is here," Bellatrix jeered, mad glint burning in her eyes as she scanned Hermione.

"Indeed," Tom murmured amusedly.

Bellatrix wasn't paying him much attention anymore and was now entranced with Hermione. A destructive smile tugged at her full lips and she laughed softly while she studied Hermione interestedly. Hermione didn't quite know how to react. Although she had left Malfoy manor behind a long time ago, Bellatrix Black still managed to intimidate her. Hermione tensed as the witch sauntered towards her, invading her personal space. Smile still twisting her lips, Bellatrix raised a hand and ran her long nailed fingers through Hermione's curls.

"You're so neat and prim," she cooed contently. "So whole and radiant."

Hermione shuddered as Bellatrix leaned closer while her hand slipped to Hermione's chin, clasping it in a strangely gentle hold. Bellatrix' eyes glinting madly as she inspected Hermione's face. Then she declared seriously,

"You are the antithesis."

She turned her head and looked at Tom. "Is that why you spend your time with her, Riddle?"

Tom gazed at the crazy witch, smirk ghosting around his handsome features, but remained silent. Bellatrix chortled and turned back to Hermione.

"Little Miss Hermione," the witch sung. "You're pure. Like a knife through skin."

With wide eyes, Hermione stared at Bellatrix. It was Tom who spoke next. Amusement tinting his voice, he said,

"You've had your fun, Bellatrix. Leave her be."

For a moment longer, Bellatrix' touch lingered. Then the witch just smirked at Hermione and shrugged her shoulders.

"Whatever," she told Tom. "Do what you want. You know I'm right."

Finally she released Hermione and sauntered down the corridor, cackling softly, and left Hermione to collect her scattered thoughts.

"What did you want?" Tom's voice brought her back to the matter at hand.

A feeling of dread rushed back to Hermione as the Horcruxes sprung to the forefront of her mind. Reluctantly, she looked up at the dark-haired wizard and her fears crashed down on her again. RAB's letter seemed to burn forebodingly in her pocket.

"I- I need to talk with you."

Tom cocked a questioning eyebrow as he heard her shaky reply. "Okay?"

"Not here."

Tom nodded, obviously confused by her anxiety. Gingerly, he took her hand in his and led her down the corridor. His touch burned like fire and still Hermione held on. She felt like suffocating as they walked through the castle. Too soon, much too soon, they reached the Heads' common room and were finally alone. For a moment they stood in silence, Hermione unable to say anything. She didn't want to broach the topic they needed to discuss.

Tom, oblivious to her inner turmoil, cocked an eyebrow. "So? What happened that got you into such a gloomy mood?"

Hermione worried her lower lip. Her heart hammered away in her chest and she would have preferred to flee this conversation.

"I…"

Hermione didn't know how to start without it turning into an accusation. Surely RAB was a liar. Would Tom be angry with her for doubting him? Trepidation knotted her stomach and Hermione's throat constricted. With shaky hands, she pulled the letter from her pocket and offered it to Tom. He watched her actions, a frown taking form on his face, still he accepted the letter. Fear ripped at her as Hermione watched him unfold the parchment. She could barely breathe as his eyes swiftly wandered over RAB's message. The frown on Tom's face got deeper and deeper and as he finally reached the ending there was anger smouldering in his eyes.

"Do you know who wrote this?" Tom demanded to know.

Hermione jumped at his sharp tone and replied softly, "No. As you can see, they used an alias."

For a moment, Tom didn't say anything but glared at the letter. Suspicion bubbled up in Hermione and she had to ask, "Do  _you_  know who RAB is?"

Tom crinkled his nose in distaste. "No, why should I?"

It sounded sincere enough, but somehow Hermione wasn't sure anymore. Had he maybe recognized the initials? Or the handwriting? Hermione shook her head, trying to untangle her thoughts. It didn't matter. What really mattered to Hermione was Tom dispelling the doubts that RAB had conjured up.

"Tom…?" she whispered hesitantly. "This- What RAB writes, it's not true, is it?"

"What?" A cruel smirk appeared on Tom's face. "That he's powerless? A hypocrite? No, I think that is very much true."

Hermione swallowed nervously, not finding anything remotely funny about this situation. She looked at Tom pleadingly.

"You know what I mean. What he said about  _Horcruxes_."

"Yes, that…"

Tom's eyes wandered back to the letter and the smirk dropped from his face. A dangerous expression darkened his features and he hissed,

"That is definitely a problem."

Hermione's eyes widened and she took in a sharp breath of air. Her voice trembled heavily as she inquired, "W- what does that mean? You're not  _really_  planning to create a H- Horcrux, are you?"

Tom's icy blue eyes flashed at her, making her flinch, and as if it were nothing he sneered, "Of course I am. And you can be sure  _RAB_  will pay dearly for spying on me."

For a moment, Hermione just stared at him as panic cruelly twisted around her chest and all thoughts fled her mind. Tom was completely unaffected by her falling in a state of despair. Cold gleam in his eyes, he refolded RAB's letter and slipped it into his robe pocket.

"You can't be serious," Hermione managed to choke out. "Horcruxes are not… Was this your plan all the time? You want to find the Founders' objects just to turn them into these… these  _vile things_?"

Tom's frosty eyes gazed at her, his face a blank unreadable mask. Then he replied coldly,

"Yes."

Hermione was taken aback by his offhand confession. A smirk slid on Tom's face and he commented lightly,

"I don't really understand why you call them vile, though."

Hermione's throat constricted painfully and she had to cough before she was able to answer, "I read about Horcruxes, Tom. I wish I hadn't. They're horrible.  _Wrong_."

Tom reproachfully clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We're talking about immortality here, Hermione."

"I gathered that much," Hermione replied tightly. "It doesn't change what they  _are_."

Tom simply eyed her pityingly as if he thought she were a bit slow. Hermione's magic gave a furious budge. All that she had read about Horcruxes rushed back to her. They were simply disgusting. Anger mounted up in Hermione as Tom so nonchalantly shrugged off her worries.

"Don't tell me you're wouldn't be tempted," Tom sneered. "Not even a little?"

"Tempted?" Hermione echoed coldly. "Tempted by what? Would I like to live forever? Forever be happy? Forever be with my friends and my family? Never having to say good-bye? There is no-one who  _wouldn't_  be tempted by that."

A triumphant glint appeared in Tom's eyes, but Hermione didn't want to let it take root. She crinkled her nose in disgust and continued caustically,

"That's just fantasy, Tom. A wish, a fairy tale. We're living in reality. Things never go that smoothly and you never gain anything without paying."

Tom shook his head at her in disappointment and said arrogantly, "I know what I have to give to gain immortality. It is nothing I would miss."

Hermione laughed at that, a mirthless sound from her lips. "So you want to split your soul. And you are not in the least bit concerned that you're giving away something essential? Are you not at all scared that something could go wrong with your plan?"

A haughty smile curved Tom's lips. "I am prepared."

Hermione nodded, but then demanded, "Tell me one thing, Tom." She took a step towards him and looked up into his starkly blue eyes. "What is the soul?"

An annoyed expression darkened Tom's features. "What stupid question is that?"

"It's not stupid," Hermione insisted. "It's reasonable. Apparently, this is the currency for immortality. What is the soul?"

Tom glowered at her, not willing to lower himself to answer. Hermione shook her head at his lack of insight.

"You don't know, do you?" she stated irately. "Of course you don't. Because no-one does. Scientists, philosophers, alchemists, they could probably argue about this for years and years and not find an answer."

Hermione reached for Tom's hand. She needed to make him understand. Holding his hand gently, she tried to reason with him, "You are using this magic, this Horcrux, but you do not really understand it. You can't possibly know what it's going to do to you."

Tom ripped his hand free from her grasp and glared down at her.

"I studied the spell, Hermione," he hissed, venom seeping through his tone. "I know what I'm doing. It's been done before."

Hermione pulled  _Magick Moste Evil_  from her robe pocket and said derisively, "It's been done before. Really?"

As Tom just looked at her, Hermione shook her head and continued curtly, "You know, on this planet, every day people get murdered. It's nothing we should be proud of, but it is happening.  _Every day_  people die and others become murderers."

She opened the book and flipped to a certain page. With disgust in her voice she stated, "Here it is. The book says Herpo the Foul is the _only one_  known to have created a Horcrux." Hermione's gaze snapped back to Tom. "Herpo the Foul lived in ancient Greece. That is more than two-thousand years ago.  _Two-thousand_  years and he is the  _only_  one who created a Horcrux? A world full of murderers, but no-one ever wanted to gain immortality? Why?"

Tom sneered at her, twisting up his otherwise so handsome features. "You don't know that. Maybe they just weren't foolish enough to talk about such an accomplishment."

Hermione snorted, "Please. People like to brag. Two-thousand years, but not one single mention of a Horcrux? Not very plausible. So I ask, why did no-one create a Horcrux?"

Irritably, Tom gestured at the book in her hand and hissed darkly, "The information on Horcruxes is not easy to find. I needed years to gather all the information"

"Really?" Hermione sneered in disbelief. "You know where I found this book?" She raised  _Magick Moste Evil_.

"In the Restricted Section," was Tom's curt reply.

Hermione arched her eyebrows. "Yes, I found this book on Horcruxes in the library of a  _school_. And you really think no-one else could have found it?"

"Creating a Horcrux," Tom said, his voice gaining a deathly cold streak. "is very advanced Dark Magic. Believe me, not many could understand the spell work behind it. Maybe people get murdered every day. But how many of their murderers are wizards? How many of those wizards know about Horcruxes and how many of those could hope to understand the magic?"

Hermione's temper snapped and with an angry movement she threw the book on the couch. It bounced off the upholstery and fell to the floor.

"You know why no-one created a Horcrux?" Hermione yelled furiously. "Because it is not working!"

"You would be foolish to believe that," Tom scoffed callously "You haven't read the theory behind the spell. You wouldn't know."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line and hissed through gritted teeth, "Assuming you are right, you still haven't answered my question." As Tom mockingly arched his eyebrows she spat, " _What is the soul?_  Does it even exist? Before you split something away from your body, you should know that."

"It doesn't matter," Tom replied angrily. "By creating a Horcrux I gain immortal life."

"You are playing with things you have no control over," Hermione said sharply. "Things that are irreversible."

Tom just glared at her, very much unimpressed. Hermione breathed in deeply to calm herself. With yelling at Tom, she wouldn't achieve anything. She needed a clear head. Hermione took a step towards him. Cautiously, she raised her hand and put it on his chest, stroking him tenderly. Her voice was soft as she reasoned with him,

"If you don't know what exactly the soul is, you also don't know what you are giving up here. Maybe it's something you  _need_. Why are you so keen on selling your soul, Tom? This is nothing but a deal with the devil."

Hermione fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, holding it desperately, as she stared up into Tom's blue eyes.

"Please," Hermione beseeched. " _Please_ , don't do it. Tom, I beg you."

Tom gazed at her. Hermione trembled slightly as his eyes slowly wandered over her. As he eyed the distress that was undoubtedly on her face, the hard tinge drained from his face. Hermione was relieved to see softness seeping into his blue eyes. Tom raised a hand and gingerly cupped her cheek. Hermione leaned into the touch. An affectionate smile played around his lips. He leaned down to her and placed a tender kiss on her lips.

"Don't worry," Tom whispered lovingly.

Hermione breathed out in relief, glad that she had managed to reach Tom. As he bent up again, the smile still hovered around his lips. Then Tom opened his mouth and said,

"Nothing is going to happen to me. I have this under control. I know what I'm doing. I will achieve what no-one ever dared to do before. I will create six Horcruxes."

Hermione's eyes widened, fear flashing through her like a physical pain. "S- six Horcruxes?!"

"Yes," Tom affirmed in a low voice. "Seven pieces of my soul. The most powerfully magical number."

Shock washed over her as she stared at him.

"N- no," she stuttered weakly and stumbled away from him.

A smile washed over Tom's face. It was out of place and inappropriate, considering the topic of this conversation. Still, Tom smiled as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Ravenclaw's Diadem," he recited, twisted pride in his voice. "Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Cup. The object Gryffindor created."

Tom raised his right hand and showed her the golden ring on his finger.

"This," he told her, a disturbing glint in his eyes. "once belonged to Marvolo Gaunt, my grandfather. It's a family heirloom and it will be my fifth Horcrux."

Horror, pure horror, overwhelmed Hermione. In denial, she shook her head, her wide eyes flying back to Tom's. The smile was still pasted all over his face. The innocence behind the gesture clashed painfully with his words.

"And the last Horcrux, Hermione," Tom said. "That will be you."

She could do nothing but stare at him. All thoughts came to a stand-still as her reality twisted into a nightmare. Her mind crashed and it felt as if all life had been sucked out of her, leaving her body empty and cold. A distorted form of concern flooded Tom's features as he saw her breaking down. He smiled at her softly and raised a hand. Hermione was paralysed, trapped in her nightmare, as Tom gently rubbed his hand over her cheek.

"Believe me, you won't get harmed. It's going to be fine.  _You_  will be fine."

Hermione felt tears prickling in her eyes, but shock did not allow them to fall and bring release. She raised a shaky hand and wrapped her fingers around Tom's wrist.

"No, please," she begged, words falling from her trembling lips. "You can't do this. Please."

A soft smile flashed down at her and Tom replied, "There is no need to be afraid. You have to trust me."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. The embrace was gentle and warm, but still managed to leave Hermione chilled to the bone.

"You are important to me," Tom assured in a soothing voice. "I will protect you. As my Horcrux you will be closest to me and I will be closest to you."

Hermione tore away from Tom and stuttered weakly, "Please, Tom. Y- you are not a murderer. _Please_."

Tom smiled at her indulgently as if she had said something ridiculous. Fond expression on his face, he said, "Silly girl. Don't you know? I already am a murderer."

Hermione shook her head in desperation, but then uttered what she had long since suspected to be the truth, "Neville Longbottom?"

"I killed him," Tom easily admitted, the smile on his face out of place.

"Why?" Hermione breathed weakly.

There was not even a hint of remorse in Tom's voice as he replied, "I just wanted to know what it feels like."

Hermione swallowed thickly, feeling nauseous. "Y- you are the Heir of Slytherin?"

Tom inclined his head. "Yes. My mother is a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. I am his heir."

"N- no…"

Tom reached for her but this time Hermione shied away from his touch. Irritation crossed his handsome features at her retreat and continued opposition. Traces of his upcoming temper seeped through his voice as Tom rebuked her, "Use your head, Hermione. How do you think my mother managed to be allowed to live like a Muggle? To marry a Muggle? Even have a halfblooded son?" He laughed darkly. "She used her name. Slytherin's name. The ministry bows to one thing only: pure blood. And my mother belongs to one of the oldest and purest bloodlines that ever existed."

Hermione's whole body trembled as she stared at him. A vicious smirk twisted Tom's lips and she could barely recognize him.

"You  _can't_  do this," she whispered pleadingly. "All those people… You can't just murder them.  _Think_  what you would have to do, Tom. It's not worth it."

Her desperation did nothing to dispel the devilish smile from Tom's face. A mad glint shone in his eyes and he said, "This is something I have planned for years. You should be proud to be a part of it."

Hermione stared up at him. She was still trapped in a cruel nightmare, tears pooling in her eyes and her whole body cold as ice. Helpless and defenceless, she stood in front of something that could only be called…  _a monster?_  Hermione shook her head and balled her hands into fists.  _Not helpless! Not anymore_.

As she spoke next all traces of softness left her voice and it was hard as steel, "I will not be one of your Horcruxes."

"You are mine," was Tom's reply, eyes shining menacingly. " _Mine_. You will be staying by my side. And you will do as I say."

Hermione looked up at him, meeting his vicious gaze. Then she shook her head and stated, voice hollow,

"No."

Not waiting for his reply, Hermione turned around and walked away. Tom didn't chase after her, but as she slipped from the room his voice followed and his conviction struck fear into her very heart,

"You  _will_  change your mind, Hermione."

†

Hermione felt like she was walking through a strange dream landscape as she wandered Hogwarts' corridors. She was trapped in a world of horror and wherever she went it followed her. Neither the other students' merry laughter nor the warm sun rays as she left the castle could reach her.

Not speaking with anyone, Hermione walked to the edge of Hogwarts' grounds. Then she pulled her wand and disapparated. Seconds later, she materialized in front of an iron gate. Hermione's hands curled around the bars so tightly her knuckles turned white as she glared at the huge manor house on top of the hill. Like a perfect apparation it stood there, looking quite peaceful and innocent in the middle of Hermione's nightmare.

Monsters were not born; they were made and forced into their shape. Hermione knew that Tom was not a monster. She knew him and she had come to love him. It broke her heart that he was forced to do all those horrible things. Hermione knew it was not his fault …not all of it. From the very start of his life, Tom's father had hated his son.  _He_  was the one who had told Tom he was a monster. Riddle Sr. had abandoned his son before he was even born. He had always despised Tom's magic and had locked him away for the most part of his youth.

Riddle Sr. had  _destroyed_  Tom.

Hermione's magic crackled furiously in the air as she glared at the mansion. Riddle Sr. had put Tom in an asylum, hoping his magic could be crushed. Tom's father had condemned his own son while his mother had stood by, doing nothing. It was  _their_ faultthat Tom now thought he needed to kill to survive.

An angry twitch rippled through Hermione's magic and it clashed brutally against the iron gate, blowing it from its hinges. Tom had been forced to grow up knowing nothing but hate. Hermione might be horrified by his plans, but she would not reject him. She would not hate him like his own family had done. Hate, she decided as she walked up to the mansion, would be reserved for the ones who'd earned it.

Magic furiously storming around her, Hermione walked towards the huge manor house. The gravel of the path crunched under her angry steps and her hand shook with suppressed fury as she raised it to knock at the entrance door. A woman opened, but it wasn't Merope.

"Yes?" the short woman asked. "How can I help you?"

Hermione didn't know who this was nor did she care. Anger seeping through her voice she hissed, "I'm here for Mr Riddle."

The woman, probably the Riddles' maid, narrowed her eyes, not at all appreciating Hermione's impolite behaviour. Still, she replied evenly, "Who can I announce?"

Hermione wasn't in the mood for this and simply pushed past the maid. Completely ignoring the woman's protest, she stalked into the entrance hall. Her magic still bristled around her and it didn't take much for Hermione to sense another source of magic near-by. It seeped through the walls from the room to her left and felt vaguely familiar. Bits of it resembled Tom's magic.  _Merope_. A new wave of anger bubbled up in Hermione and, completely ignoring the maid, she strode towards the room.

"H- hey," the maid stuttered. "You can't just walk in here."

Hermione didn't reply but reached for the door handle. The maid would have probably stopped her, but Hermione's magic crackled around her and made it impossible for the Muggle woman to approach her. Hermione ripped the door open and entered the drawing room.

The room was as large and impressive as she remembered it. Now, though, Hermione's nose crinkled in disgust at the splendour. Her eyes quickly fell on the two people in the sitting area. Merope sat on a sofa, reading in a book. Across from her on an armchair sat Mr Riddle. Hermione's magic gave an angry budge at the man's sight. It was disgusting how much Mr Riddle looked like Tom. Hermione glared at him darkly. By now Merope and her husband both looked over at her, surprised by her sudden entrance.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Riddle," the maid apologized, looking nervously to her employer. "She just barged in. I couldn't stop her."

Mr Riddle stood up from the sofa and now fixed Hermione with an angry stare. Never taking his eyes from her, he addressed the maid, anger already seeping through his voice,

"It's fine, Margaret. Leave us alone, please"

Hermione heard the door behind her being closed, but she had eyes only for Mr Riddle. Merope watched the whole thing with wide eyes.

"Hermione?" the woman whispered shakily. "What are you doing here, dear?"

Hermione didn't reply, but stalked further into the drawing room, her magic storming around her aggressively. With sick satisfaction, she saw Mr Riddle's eyes widen with fear. Quickly, he managed to pull himself together again. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and the arrogant expression slid back on his face. He struck an imposing figure as he stood in the middle of the large room and stared her down.

"What are you doing here?" Mr Riddle demanded to know. "I thought I made it clear that I don't want your kind of people in my home."

Hermione's eyes shortly flew to Merope. She watched the whole thing anxiously, but remained silent. Tom's mother would never stand up against her husband, Hermione realized. A rush of anger hit her at Merope's passivity. Eyes sliding back to Mr Riddle, Hermione bared her teeth and hissed furiously,

"I want to know what you did to Tom."

A mirthless laugh fell from the man's mouth. "What  _I_  did to him?"

"Don't deny it," Hermione snarled venomously. "You hurt him."

Mr Riddle's face turned purple with his anger. He took a threatening step towards Hermione and yelled in outrage, "You dare come into my house and sprout such baseless accusations? Who gave you the right?"

"Baseless?" Hermione sniped viciously. "I know  _everything_. How you abandoned Tom, how you mistreated him."

Mr Riddle's hands balled into fists and he snapped, "Is that what he told you?! That I allegedly mistreated him? Ridiculous!"

"Are you seriously going to deny this?" Hermione raged. "You rejected him, you locked him away, didn't you? The only thing that's missing is physical abuse.  _You're_ the monster here. Not Tom!"

"Maybe that's what he missed," Mr Riddle bit out sharply. "A good slap now and then and he might not have turned out to be such a freak."

Hermione was disgusted by that statement and her magic stormed around her, mirroring her fury. It was that moment that Merope finally spoke up.

"Tom,  _please_ ," she diffidently tried to appease her husband's temper. "Don't say that."

Mr Riddle completely ignored her in favour of glaring at Hermione. Merope was huddled on the sofa, eyeing her husband pleadingly. Hermione was deeply revolted by the both of them. Merope's weakness and Mr Riddle's cruelty were unbearable. Her fingers itched to pull her wand and curse them, show them a small glimpse of how Tom must have felt as a little boy.

She wanted to make them hurt.

Fed by her mounting wrath, Hermione's magic crackled menacingly in the air. Her eyes glowed dangerously as she glared at Mr Riddle

"You never loved Tom!" Hermione thundered at the despicable man. "He is your  _son_  and you never loved him."

Mr Riddle bared his teeth and glowered at Hermione darkly. His voice was twisted with malice as he snapped, "That boy does not deserve love."

Hermione actually stumbled a step back as she was hit by Mr Riddle's anger and she stared at the man in shock. Quickly, though, her fury rushed back to her.

"How can you say that?" the Gryffindor yelled, fierce glint in her brown eyes. "Because he's a wizard? You hate your own son, because he's different?"

Hermione took a step towards the man. Her magic bristled around her and with grim satisfaction she watched Mr Riddle recoiling slightly.

"It's not Tom's fault that he has magic," Hermione snarled angrily. "You shouldn't hate him because of it. You should have accepted him and be proud of what he is."

Mr Riddle glared at her as if he wished to kill her with his bare hands. As he spoke next, his voice was ice cold,

"Get out."

Hermione didn't listen. Instead she accused cruelly, "You are scared of Tom's magic, because you can't understand it. That's why you locked him away in that institution. Because you are a coward. You couldn't deal with the fact that your son is special, so you wanted to punish him for it."

Mr Riddle didn't react to her accusations. Strangely, all his fury seemed to drain from him and left an empty expression on his face. Dull eyes stared at Hermione and she was bewildered by the abrupt mood change. Wordlessly, Mr. Riddle turned away from her. He took a few steps to the sofa and for a moment simply stared down at his wife. He didn't say anything and Hermione couldn't see his face, only Merope's as she weakly smiled up at her husband. Finally, Mr Riddle bent down to Merope and placed a kiss on her forehead before he whispered simply,

"Talk with her. I… I can't…"

Then Mr Riddle left the drawing room without a glance in Hermione's direction. Staggered by the man's strange behaviour, she stared at the door through which he had disappeared. Hermione was ripped from her thoughts as someone pulled at her hand. She turned to Merope. The woman had grabbed Hermione's hand and now gently tugged at her. Feeling quite confused, Hermione allowed herself to be pulled towards the sofa and sat down.

"Don't worry about him," said Merope, gesturing at the door. "He'll be fine."

Her brown eyes wandered to Hermione. Hermione's anger had strangely ebbed away. It seemed to have vanished with Mr Riddle's abrupt departure and she was left in a state of confusion.

"You're wrong about him, you know," Merope said gingerly.

"What?" Hermione blustered indignantly.

"My husband," Merope replied softly. "You said that he never loved Tommy."

A hint of her previous anger returned and Hermione growled hotly, "But that's true, isn't it? Otherwise he wouldn't have hurt his own son like he did."

Merope shook her head. Then she asked carefully, "What did Tommy tell you?"

"He told me all about his accidental magic in kindergarten," Hermione said firmly, hints of anger again in her voice.

She glared at Merope accusatorily as she continued darkly, "It was  _accidental_  magic. It wasn't Tom's fault. And yet, with those first signs of magic, his father abandoned him and threw him into a psychiatric clinic.  _For no reason!_  He just couldn't accept that his son was a wizard. And you… you just let him do that to Tom. How could you?!"

Hit by Hermione's accusation, Merope exhaled slowly. Her hand trembled as she raised it and ran it over her face. For a moment, she didn't reply anything but seemed to fight against tears. Then Merope smiled shakily at Hermione and whispered,

"I'm surprised Tommy told you about his time in the Pinel clinic. You must be really important to him."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the woman. Merope sat, sunken down, on the sofa and looked quite miserable. Tom had been right, Hermione thought harshly, Merope  _was_  weak. It was her fault Tom had to suffer, just because she was too weak to go against her husband.

"I still remember that day," Merope whispered, her voice so soft it was barely audible. "I was cooking lunch as Tommy's kindergarten teacher called. The woman was so distraught, I could only understand that there had been an accident. I was afraid that Tommy might be hurt. I instantly called Tom and then we drove to Filey beach. An ambulance and police were already there… other parents… the children were crying. Tom was standing a bit apart from the other people. He wasn't crying. I was so relieved that he was alright. Two children had almost drowned."

"And you could feel it, couldn't you?" Hermione accused harshly. "You instantly knew that magic had been used, didn't you?"

Merope nodded reluctantly. "Yes. I knew. I could sense Tommy's magic all over him. It wasn't difficult to guess what had happened."

"So you told your husband?"

"No," replied Merope. "He already knew."

"And that's when he decided to throw Tom away," hissed Hermione bitterly. "And you just stood by, doing nothing."

"The children Tommy attacked almost drowned in that cave," Merope omitted to answer.

Angrily, Hermione replied, "It was  _accidental magic_!"

She was taken aback as Merope then laughed mirthlessly and said, "Yes, that's what I thought, as well."

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "What…?"

Merope peered at her and continued her story, "I told my husband that it was accidental magic. That it wasn't Tommy's fault. It could have happened to anybody. There was no use blaming the child."

"But he-" hissed Hermione, anger thick in her voice. "But Mr Riddle didn't believe you, did he?"

Sadness crossed Merope's face. Suddenly the woman looked so grief-ridden that Hermione felt a jab of unwelcome pity in her stomach. Sorrow laced her voice as Merope answered,

"No. Tom  _did_  believe me."

Hermione tensed. She hadn't seen that coming. Confusion washed over her, driving away any rest of fury.

"But I thought he…"

Merope sighed painfully. Then she looked Hermione in the eyes and said quietly, "We both know that what Tommy did that day was a lot of things, but certainly not accidental magic. It was too advanced. Too vindictive." She broke eye contact with Hermione. "Yet, I told my husband otherwise. And he  _believed_  me. I am to blame…"

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, no longer knowing if she really wanted an answer.

"We took Tommy home," said Merope shakily. "I didn't talk with him about the accident. I  _couldn't_. Neither could Tom. We didn't bring Tommy back to kindergarten. He was six by then. He was going to be enrolled in primary school in a few months anyway." Nervously Merope wrung her hands in her lap. "Tommy was behaving normally. He didn't show any signs of magic. So… I managed to convince myself that it  _really_  had been an accident. Everything was fine…"

By the tone of her voice, Hermione could tell that nothing had been fine for Merope. Still full of bitterness, Hermione said accusingly, "Tom told me, right after that incident with the cave you brought him to a mental hospital. You shoved him away."

Merope flinched as she heard it. Clearly this wasn't a topic that she ever talked about. Still, the woman forced herself to answer, "No, that's not true. We didn't do that. I had still hope. No, we sent Tommy to primary school like any normal boy. The teachers instantly liked him. I was proud and my husband was relieved because Tommy didn't show any magic. He finished first grade as the best of his year."

Merope took in a deep breath of air and, frankly, looked rather sick. Then she whispered, her voice almost breaking, "During the following summer break- I remember, it was a Saturday… My husband had bought tickets for the theatre. Faust. I love the theatre. So we went together, me and Tom." Merope swallowed thickly. "Tommy was only seven. So… so Tom asked his parents to babysit him... We were gone a few hours. After the play, we had a glass of wine. I really enjoyed myself and wasn't in the least bit hurrying to get home… It must have been after midnight that we got back."

Merope hesitated to continue. As she finally did her voice was hoarse and almost broke, "We found them in the drawing room. Tom's parents. I saw them… lying there… and instantly knew what happened. I just knew."

"Were they- What happened to them?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"Tom called an ambulance," whispered Merope, tears swimming in her eyes. "As they arrived, the doctor could only record the death."

Hermione gasped as she heard it. Mr. Riddle's parents had died? How?

"Again," Merope said, sadness thick in her voice. "I could feel it in the air. I could almost smell it. It was all over the drawing room. Tommy's magic."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and her whole body stiffened. Ice cold horror froze over her blood.

"Tom? He- he-" she stuttered pathetically.

"He killed them," Merope said, her voice painfully firm now. "No other way to put it. Tommy killed his grandparents."

Silence rang deafeningly. Hermione tried to process the information and couldn't reply anything.

"I found Tommy in his room," Merope continued, tiredness seeping through her tone. "He was reading a book, lying on his bed. He was calm, relaxed even. I didn't ask him what happened. I knew. We both knew. I found my wand in the drawer of his desk. I hadn't touched that wand since I got pregnant with Tommy, you must know. I have no idea how long Tommy already had the wand before I found it."

"So…" Hermione mumbled weakly. "Tom knew that he was a wizard? He knew about magic? He told me he only found out as he got the letter from Hogwarts."

Merope shook her head, scanning Hermione sadly. "He knew. I told him when he was very little."

"And… and he…" Hermione's voice trembled. "Tom used your wand to kill Mr Riddle's parents? His… his own grandparents?"

Merope nodded, almost imperceptibly. Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "What happened after you found the wand?"

"I had a talk with my husband," Merope replied. "He was so very sad about his parents' death. We knew we had to do something. That's when we decided to give Tommy away. He needed help. Help that neither of us could give him. So, I contacted the Pinel psychiatric clinic. There are experts that could talk with Tommy, help him control his anger and his magic."

"The doctors knew about magic?" Hermione asked confused. Hadn't it been a Muggle institution?

"Yes," said Merope. "First we thought about putting Tommy in a Muggle clinic, but they wouldn't have been able to contain him if he attacked with magic. So, I talked with the healers at St. Mungo's and they referred Tommy to the Pinel clinic. Tommy hated us for putting him there. For months he refused to even talk with me as I visited. It was a hard time. For all of us. Tommy had to stay there for so long. I missed him terribly."

Merope glanced at Hermione and threw her a weak smile. "As he was finally released, he was better. Not good, but better. Then I was so proud of him as he was allowed to go to Hogwarts. I had been afraid they wouldn't take him. And Tommy was doing so good at school. I know he still resents his father and me for having abandoned him to that clinic. But I'm so happy that he's doing  _good_  at school. He has the best grades, he made some friends, and now he's even Head Boy. I never hear anything bad about Tommy from any of the teachers. He's so much better now. And then…" This time Merope's smile was genuine as she looked at Hermione. "Then he visited us last holiday. With you.  _Voluntarily_. It's more than I could have hoped for."

Hermione looked at the happy smile on Merope's face and felt something slowly, mercilessly tightening around her throat. Her stomach turned into one painful knot and she felt like suffocating. What should she tell Merope now? Tell her about Neville Longbottom, about the Knights of Walpurgis, about Horcruxes… about how Tom had  _never_  changed? How he still was like that little boy who had killed his grandparents in cold blood?

The smile on Merope's face gained a sad streak as she added, "You must know, my husband… he really loves Tommy. He does. But since his parents died… Looking at Tommy hurts him. It's making him say harsh things. But he doesn't blame Tommy. If he blames anyone, then it's me."

Hermione looked at Merope. Unshed tears swam in the woman's eyes.

"Why would he blame you?" Hermione asked gingerly.

Merope smiled at her weakly. "I made a lot of mistakes in my youth. And one was… Let's say I hurt Tom in the most horrible way. It's actually a miracle he stayed with me. I'm very grateful."

Merope put a hand on Hermione's arm and rubbed it gently. A smile was on her face as she said, "But that's another story. Don't worry about it. It's in the past. I just want you to know that my husband cares about Tommy just as much as I do. I'm very glad Tommy finally managed to put our problems behind himself."

Hermione could do nothing but to stare at Merope. There was such a beautiful glint of hope in the woman's eyes, Hermione couldn't bring herself to snuff it.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier. I didn't know."

"Oh, it's fine," Merope said, gently skimming a hand over Hermione's arm. "In fact, I'm glad that you did. It shows how much you like Tommy. I'm happy he found someone like you."

Hermione nodded, forcing herself to smile even though she felt like bursting in tears. "I have to go now."

"Of course." Merope smiled.

"Can you…" Hermione said hesitantly. "Can you tell Mr Riddle that I'm sorry?"

"Yes," said Merope, still smiling. "Don't worry. He's not angry with you. He's just still very hurt. But I'm sure, someday he'll forgive himself and hopefully me, too."

She showed Hermione to the door and before Hermione could leave, Merope said cheerfully, "You are very welcome to visit again. Maybe next time together with Tommy."

Hermione threw her a weak smile but couldn't force herself to reply. Then she turned and walked away.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **I am the spirit, ever, that denies!**

**And rightly so: since everything created,**

**In turn deserves to be annihilated:**

**Better if nothing came to be.**

**So all that you call Sin, you see,**

**Destruction, in short, what you've meant**

**By Evil is my true element.'**

**\- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe**

**(*1749 † 1832)**


	29. Cemeteries That Are Lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so sorry for this hiatus. Real life was a hectic mess these last months. Stuff happened, things changed, got a new job and had to move to a new city. You know the drill; writing had to wait. I never forgot this fic, though. And to prove that to you, here's the next chapter :) Ug, this chapter was one of the first scenes I had in mind when I started the story. Now look how long it took me to get here. But yeah, better late than never. There's a lot of Tom/Hermione interaction here. I almost forgot how fun they are to write. We sail a really crazy ship, my friends.
> 
> A little reminder: In this fic, Tom hasn't yet created any Horcruxes. He has set plans in motion and is working towards it, but hasn't yet really split his soul. So the Founders' objects are no Horcruxes at this point.
> 
> Also, thank you for all giving me kudos on last chapter ^^ and thank you, GeminAi, peacock33 and garbleturkey for your comments. You're great :)

Hermione appeared at the edge of Hogwarts' warding system with the sharp snap of Apparition. For a moment, she just stood there and allowed her gaze to wander over the castle stretched out in front of her. Hogwarts was majestic. Centuries old, it breathed history. Hermione wondered what those old stones had witnessed in all that time. To this stronghold, her life probably didn't take longer than the blink of an eye. A sad smile touched Hermione's features. She wished Hogwarts knew what it meant to her. It had become her home, the first place in years where she experienced the feeling of safety. To her, that old castle meant hope. Standing at the edge of the wards, Hermione's hands balled into tight fists. It wasn't only the castle that had made her feel so safe here.

She still couldn't believe it.

Tom had lied to her. Everything he had told her about himself had been nothing but lies. He had constructed a picture of himself that had nothing to do with reality. And Hermione had believed him. Everything. Talking with Merope had opened her eyes and the extent of Tom's lies finally hit her. Hermione's stomach roiled. If all of Tom's words had been lies, what about his touches? What about his feelings?

What about  _her_?

Hermione swallowed down the lump in her throat. Her eyes tingled, but she felt too empty to cry. She remembered how she'd met him. Hermione had been too caught up in her fears to notice back then, but in that forest in Albania Tom had already been driven by a mad urge. Gathering the Founders' objects had always been his quest. Hermione had never really questioned him. Later, Tom had even ordered her to steal Slytherin's Locket and, like the obedient little servant she was, Hermione had obeyed.

The thought made Hermione's magic storm around her angrily, whirling up a few leaves. Of course Tom had never told her why he needed the locket. No, he had preferred to keep his little pet in the dark. Hermione felt sick. Every step Tom took was to get closer to his goal. The Founders' objects were only part of his plan and all of it led to one thing.

_Horcruxes._

Hermione closed her eyes, shutting out the image of Hogwarts' castle. It felt like everything was breaking down around her. An almost painful hollowness grasped her. Icy cold, it took hold of her. With a sigh, Hermione pulled her agitated magic back into her and started her trek back to the castle, no-longer sure what she would find there.

If everything he did led to immortality, maybe Hermione herself was no more than a stepping stone.

†

Hermione wished she could hate RAB for bursting her bubble. She couldn't, though. Whoever RAB was, they had finally opened her eyes. For that alone, she should be thankful.

"Tom?" Hermione called into the empty Heads' common room.

There was no reply and she stepped further into the room. Curiously, the absence of the Head Girl struck her. She hadn't thought of Lisa Turpin in a while, but now Hermione wondered why the Head Girl preferred the Ravenclaw dorms. What had happened that made her avoid Tom Riddle? After all, Turpin  _had_  warned Hermione away from him.

A glum feeling made her shiver slightly as Hermione climbed the stairs to Tom's room. She found the door closed and locked. A deep frown appeared on her brow as she stared at the door handle. Tom had cast very powerful and, now that she thought on it, _illegal_  wards over the door. For anyone to enter uninvited would be inadvisable. Aside from Tom himself, only Hermione could step into his room undisturbed. Previously, she had been elated that he allowed her so close and trusted her to this extent. Now, she wondered why he was so paranoid that he felt the need to ward his room so heavily in the first place.

Hermione opened the door and the wards tickled over her skin as she entered undisturbed. Tom's room was neat and tidy as usual. The bed was made and a Slytherin green quilt thrown over it. The desk was uncluttered. Everything was in its place, from the ink well and the tiny knife to sharpen the quills to the rolls of parchment and a stack of books. Hermione stepped further into the room, painfully feeling like an intruder. Was she even welcome here? Really welcome?

She pursed her lips as she let her eyes wander. Her wand lay in her hand and magic bristled around its tip. She knew it would be here. Hiding things really didn't seem to be Tom's forte. Or maybe he was too arrogant to imagine that anyone would be able to counter his wards.

Hermione brandished her wand in a long arch and let a blanket of her magic fall over the room. She could feel it touching all the surfaces. Here and there a glimmer of magic popped up. Most of it was pooled around the shelf. Many of the books in Tom's possession reeked of Dark Magic. Hermione ignored them, but concentrated on a glow of magic that hovered around one of the slabs of the stone wall. She closer and let her magic brush against it. There was a strong ward woven over the stone. Hermione could feel it pulsing under the tip of her wand. Tom's ward tried to push her away, dutifully defending its secret.

Hermione's magic licked over the stone. It didn't attack the ward full on – that would have only triggered it – but pushed and pulled gently. She didn't even try to undo Tom's magic. After all, Hermione knew what a gifted wizard he was. No, she carefully hoisted the ward out of the way, just a tiny bit, so she could reach underneath. Hermione balanced Tom's ward on the tip of her wand and as it was moved, an illusion melted from the wall and now showed a small crevice where before had been nothing but smooth stone surface. Still, holding Tom's ward carefully, Hermione reached into the crevice with her other hand. She wasn't even slightly surprised as her fingers made contact with something cold, metallic. She pulled back and a golden necklace now dangled from her fingers. A soft sway of her wand and Tom's ward fell back in place, sealing the now empty hiding place.

Hermione looked down at the locket lying on her palm. It felt heavy in her hand and magic angrily swirled around it. As if infuriated by her audacity, it tried to push her away. Hermione gritted her teeth as she stared at Slytherin's heirloom. It was ugly and clunky and oozing the darkest of magic.

It wasn't really a conscious decision on her part. It just felt like something she  _had_  to do. Imagining Tom's soul trapped in that flimsy little thing was disgusting. It was wrong and sick.

In a few steps, Hermione had reached the fireplace. It didn't take much to direct her magic into the wood and start a fire. Without hesitating, she threw the golden locket into the fire. It unceremoniously landed on one of the glowing embers, soot now tarnishing the gold. The flames licked at the locket, but were not hot enough to do any damage. Hermione glared at the gold piece and in a flash of anger pushed more magic into the flames. The fire instantly burned higher and turned an unnatural blue colour. She watched on as Slytherin's golden locket was devoured by the magical flames. For a moment it resisted, then the fire's heat, fuelled by Hermione's magic, overcame the protective spells and slowly the locket was bent out of shape. The gold melted and Hermione watched as the pathetic rest of the locket collected in a pool on the dirty stones of the fireplace. The green gems that had formed the elegant 'S' now lay scattered, forever disconnected from Slytherin's name.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

For a long time, Hermione just stood there gazing into the fire. Tom hadn't returned and she was still alone in his room. Slytherin's Locket was gone and the flames had died down. Tom's betrayal, though, still burned. A tight feeling had coiled around Hermione's chest, almost taking her breath away, and anger was slowly consuming her. This wasn't over.

She slid her wand back into her robe pocket, before she left the Heads' chambers behind. It was time to talk with Tom. She was going to make him be honest with her for once. There would be no gently spoken lies to calm her and no half-hearted apologies to soothe her temper. This time, Tom would have to be open with her.

She found him on the ground-floor, right outside the Great Hall. Hogwarts' students slowly meandered into the hall for dinner and Tom, deep in conversation with Dolohov, walked among them. A frown appeared on Hermione's face as she once again noticed how the other students gave the two Slytherins a wide berth. Why were they all so intimidated by Tom?

"Tom," she called him.

Hearing his name, he turned around to her. A smirk curled his lips as he recognized her. Hermione stepped over to him and couldn't help but notice her heart racing in her chest. Furious determination made her press on. She tilted her head up and met Tom's mesmerising blue gaze. Banning all insecurity from her voice, she stated,

"We need to talk."

This declaration made Tom cock a questioning eyebrow while a wide grin stretched over Dolohov's face.

"Uh-oh," the Slytherin jeered. "Someone is in trouble."

Tom's eyes flashed at Dolohov, warning sheen in them. It did shut the other up, but the smirk stayed on Dolohov's face. Tom glared at him and said icily,

"Leave us alone."

However calm his voice was, Hermione couldn't help but notice that it was an order best not disobeyed. Dolohov seemed to have heard it as well. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Okay, okay. I'll leave you to it."

With that Dolohov left them and slipped into the Great Hall. Tom's attention fell back to Hermione and he eyed her interestedly.

"What can I do for you, Hermione?"

Her name smoothly rolled from his tongue as if he owned it and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. There was no point in trying to ease him into the topic at hand. So she informed him curtly,

"I talked with Merope."

The mild curiosity on Tom's face was instantly replaced by a stormy look. His jaw clenched and he asked, upcoming anger tinting his tone,

"You did  _what_?"

"I visited your mother and we had a talk," Hermione reiterated coldly.

For a moment, Tom didn't reply. He just stared at her, eyes glinting balefully, as he tried to regain his composure. Finally, he pressed out,

"You left for Little Hangleton without telling me? To talk with my  _mother_?"

His indignation might have been funny if she wouldn't have felt his magic painfully tingle over her Dark Mark. Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line and replied stonily,

"What did you think would happen? You can't spring that whole Horcrux idea on me and expect me to do nothing."

Tom sharply sucked in a breath of air and looked around, checking if anyone had heard her. By now all students had filed into the Great Hall and the large double doors had fallen shut. Tom and Hermione were quite alone in the hallway.

"Could we  _not_  talk about this where everyone can hear?" Tom hissed.

He grabbed Hermione and pulled her a few steps away from the doors. Quickly, he spun a thick silencing spell around them, so no-one would be able to overhear them. Once again, Hermione was disturbed by his paranoia. How had she never noticed that before?

"You told my  _mother_  about my plans?!" Tom demanded to know.

Hermione could still feel his incensed magic licking over her Dark Mark. She pushed it away with her own magic while she angrily wriggled out of his tight grip on her.

"I didn't tell your mother," Hermione clarified sharply. "So you can stop taking your anger out on me."

The furious expression didn't drop from Tom's face, but at least he pulled his magic away from her and took a step back, giving her more space.

"Fine," he snapped. "Then what exactly drove you to visit her?"

Hermione bared her teeth at him in a snarl. "You did! You and your stupid sob story."

"I don't even know what you're talking about, Hermione," Tom returned bitingly.

Hermione couldn't hold back anymore. All the anger and frustration, the feeling of  _betrayal_ , burst free and she yelled at him loudly, "You  _lied_  to me, Tom! Everything was a lie! Your father never locked you away in a Muggle mental hospital. And your mother never abandoned you." Irately she threw her hands up in the air. "I was a  _fool_  to ever believe one word that fell out of your mouth."

Tom's face morphed into an unreadable, smooth mask. Ice frosted over his blue eyes and he whispered, warning edge hidden in his words,

"They  _did_  lock me away."

Hermione snorted at him. She couldn't believe he still insisted on his lies. Agitatedly, her magic began to swirl around her and she snapped,

"Yes, they did. And with good reason."

This time Tom didn't reply. He merely continued to glower at her icily. Hermione wasn't intimidated at all. There was way too much anger in her system to even care.

"You killed your grandparents, Tom. You  _killed_  them!" She took a step towards him and bored an accusing finger into his chest. "You were  _seven_  years old and you killed them. I ask you, if not a mental hospital, where exactly do you think you belonged?"

Not a hint of emotion was displayed on Tom's face. In a frigid voice he inquired, "Is that what my mother told you?"

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Hermione bit out. "You killed them, didn't you?

His face was still completely free of any emotion, but now a cruel smirk curved Tom's lips. It made Hermione shiver. Silky soft, he pointed out,

"You still haven't told my why you felt the need to discuss old family history with my mother."

Underneath all that silk, Hermione could hear a menacing undercurrent. It didn't escape her notice how he avoided to answer. Balling her hands into tight fists, she snarled heatedly,

"I was angry. Angry with your parents. Because I thought it was all their fault. I thought they had driven you to become…" Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust as she gestured at Tom. " _this_."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" cruel scorn danced from Tom's tongue.

Hermione locked eyes with him and said clearly, "A murderer."

The smirk worked its way back on Tom's face. He didn't deny anything. On the contrary, he showed a twisted pride at her accusation. Hermione stared at him, not wanting to believe how he could find any form of satisfaction from having murdered people.

"Your grandparents… Neville Longbottom…" she whispered shakily. "What… Tom, what is  _wrong_  with you?"

Tom sneered at her, "There is nothing wrong with me."

Hermione could only shake her head, unbalanced by his utter disregard of human life. Her voice was choked as she said,

"I can't believe this…" She glanced at him uneasily. "Does murdering people mean nothing to you? Do you feel nothing?"

Tom arched a mocking eyebrow. Something dangerous lurked in his voice as he replied, "Oh, I do feel something. Right now, for example, I feel quite angry." He flashed his teeth at her in a threatening smile. "Maybe it's better you stop talking."

"No."

Hermione breathed in deeply. She wrapped her magic tightly around herself, drawing confidence from the force. Tom's words unsettled her, but she was  _not_  going to give in. Her eyes glinted with her anger as she glared at him.

"Don't you dare threaten me," Hermione snapped at him. " _You're_  the one who's off his rocker. Just look what you did. You don't even care. No remorse at all." Angry magic dancing around her, Hermione grabbed Tom tightly be the arm and shook him. "And now? You want to kill more people to create Horcruxes? Is that it?"

Tom gruffly brushed her hand away from him and bit out, "Yes. That's basically the plan."

"I can't believe this!" Hermione cried. "This is crazy!"

Magic crackling around her, she started to pace to and fro in front of Tom. Her hand shook as she ran her fingers agitatedly through her hair. Tom just continued to watch her outburst, cold and unmovable as ever.

After a moment, Hermione stopped and looked up at him. Dreading the answer, she still had to ask. "Was everything a lie? Everything you told me about you? Are you…?" She hesitated shortly but then pressed on, "You used me, didn't you? To get Slytherin's Locket. Do you even  _like_  me, Tom? Or am I just a little cog in the wheel that is your plan to become immortal? What do you see in me? One of your possessions that you can turn into a Horcrux?"

Tom arched an elegant eyebrow. Callously, he brushed her concerns away, "You're being melodramatic, Hermione."

"I'm certainly not," Hermione hissed, anger rushing through her. "You're  _sick_. Merope told me stories about you… How you grew up. There's something wrong. Really wrong."

Tom didn't reply, but there was a contemptuous look on his face that made Hermione's temper boil. Flashing her teeth, she snarled, "You really can't see it, can you? I told you what I think about Horcruxes. They're  _abhorrent_."

Tom shrugged his shoulders, not at all acknowledging her worries. "Why are you blowing this so much out of proportion?"

"You are planning to make a human sacrifice to gain immortal life," Hermione said mordantly. "I'd say that is a big deal! It's plain _wrong_."

Hearing this, a disturbing glint entered Tom's eyes. "I'm doing something great. This is uncharted land. There is no right or wrong here."

"No!" Hermione snapped heatedly. "No. It  _is_  wrong. I'm not going to let you do that."

Tom pursed his lips and gazed at her. His voice was dangerously soft as he inquired, "'Let me'?"

"Yes,  _let you_ ," Hermione hissed fiercely. "You're not going to pull through with this crazy idea of Horcruxes.  _I will not let you!_ "

Tom laughed softly, mockingly. "Darling, don't fool yourself. You'll never be able to stop me."

That was the last straw. Hermione's magic furiously pressed against Tom's and she snarled, "Oh yeah? We'll see about that, won't we?"

The smirk dropped from Tom's face, replaced by a deep frown. Suspicion laced his voice as he inquired, "What do you mean?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to smile sharply. "There's no way I'll let you turn the Founders' objects into Horcruxes. I'd sooner destroy them."

Tom's jaw was clenched as he fought for composure. Traces of his fury roughed the edges of his voice, "What did you do?"

Hermione glared up at him and repeated stubbornly, "I  _am_  going to stop you."

Tom grabbed her by the arms and pulled her closer to him. His cold eyes bored into her and his mouth barely moved as he hissed, "Hermione!  _What did you do_?"

Hermione tugged at his hold on her, but he wouldn't let go. She glared up at the fury twisting his handsome face and with grim satisfaction she threw at him the truth,

"I destroyed it. The stupid locket. Slytherin's locket."

As if he had been burned by her, Tom let go of Hermione. He even stumbled a step back. Shock washed over his features. At the same time, his incensed magic collapsed into itself and left behind an almost painful void. For a moment he just stared at her disbelievingly.

"You did not," he breathed shakily.

"Yes, I did," Hermione declared fiercely. "You lied to me. You tricked me into stealing that horrible locket.  _I_  broke into Hepzibah's manor. It was  _me_  who got almost caught and killed.  _I_ got the locket out there. By all rights, it was also  _my_  decision to destroy it."

"N- no," Tom whispered.

His voice sounded strangely empty and weak. Hermione brushed it away and said challengingly, "It's gone. Melted it."

She expected Tom's temper to finally snap. She was prepared for pain to erupt in her mark. Her wand still lay in her robe pocket and Hermione would have been ready to pull it and defend herself. Tom didn't try to curse her, though. In fact, he didn't do much of anything. The expected angry snarl didn't appear on his face. Instead, Tom's blue eyes gazed at her, helpless disbelief swimming in them. Even his voice was weak, no more than a whisper, as he stuttered,

"Y- you destroyed…"

His voice died down and he just continued to stare at her with empty eyes. Hermione frowned up at him, surprised by his sudden gloom. His anger had completely disappeared, leaving behind devastation. He seemed to be genuinely distressed. She cocked her head at the distraught wizard. This wasn't the reaction she had expected.

"Tom," Hermione said sternly. "You have to understand. I simply can't let you do that. I know you think you have to do this, but you just can't. And I'm certainly not letting you pull me or anyone else into this as well."

"Five years," Tom whispered in a toneless voice. "Five years…"

Hermione frowned at him. He looked lost, almost broken. It only now dawned on her that Tom Riddle Sr. had been right all along. Tom really was unstable. He needed help.

"You've been lying to me. You really hurt me," Hermione explained in a steady voice. "Just to chase after this illusion of immortality. To be frank, I don't think you're able to objectively assess the situation at all, nor are you able to understand the repercussions your plan will entail. That's why I'm stepping in now. I'm stopping this before you manage to hurt others and yourself."

"I've been working on this for five years," Tom breathed shakily as if he hadn't heard her at all. "It's my life. It's  _everything_." He glanced at her desperately. "Is that it? After all this…? You always wanted to destroy me?"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione reprimanded him bitingly. "You know I wouldn't. You are all I have and I protect you."

Tom gazed at her, not replying anything. Then his dull eyes left her and vacantly stared at the floor. There was a look of despair on his face that Hermione had never seen on him before. With his head bent, Tom looked beaten and hopeless. Hermione's heart clenched as she saw him like this. He really  _was_  sick. She didn't know if he was delusional or what… She wasn't a psychologist, after all. But it was painfully apparent that Tom's time in the Pinel clinic hadn't been enough.

"Tom," Hermione said in an even tone. "You have to trust me."

She reached for him and skimmed her fingers over his cheek. Tom didn't react at all. Eyes cast down, he stood in front of her and Hermione didn't know how to treat him. She didn't want to yell at him anymore. Clearly, she wouldn't be able to reach him with logic, neither with anger.

"Trust me," Hermione repeated firmly. "I'm doing this because it's best for you, not because I want to hurt you."

She put two fingers under his chin and tilted his head up so he looked at her. Her stomach knotted painfully as she spotted the anguish in his beautiful blue eyes. Maybe she would have to contact Merope. The woman knew the doctors at the Pinel clinic and it might be necessary to get Tom professional help.

"Horcruxes are  _not_  the way to go," Hermione explained, keeping her voice strong. "I  _had_  to stop you. You mustn't create any Horcruxes. It's going to destroy you. I will  _not_  let that happen."

Tom still didn't react but continued to gaze at her, looking quite lost. Hermione sighed and stepped closer to him. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips.

"Tom," she told him softly. "I love you. But I won't let you continue like this."

.

Tom looked down at the girl in front of him. Concern glinted in Hermione's eyes as she scanned him. He clenched his jaw as he was hit by an unbearable wave of emotion. It burned hot through his body and curled into a painful knot in the pit of his stomach.

Slytherin's Locket was gone.  _Gone_. One of the Founders' objects… forever gone. Slytherin's heirloom would have been his first Horcrux. Now Hermione had destroyed it. Tom's hands balled into tight fists as a forceful jolt ran through his magic. He had planned… planned this for  _so long_. He was Slytherin's heir. Slytherin's name was his  _right_. The locket and the sacrifice would have raised him to greatness. Finally, he would have transcended life itself and thwarted death forever.

Tom stared at Hermione. She had ruined it. He had been such a fool. It was  _bound_  to culminate in this. The thought infected Tom's magic with a fierce desire to destroy, rip apart. The Mudblood looked at him, a soft, soothing smile on her face. In no way, though, did she look guilty or ashamed of her doings. He should  _trust_  her? Tom's irate magic twitched at the thought. He had given the Mudblood everything and now she stabbed him in the back?

"Tom?"

Hermione blinked up at him, fake innocence on her face. The smile still touched her face and Tom wanted nothing more than to cut it out of her flesh.

"I know what you think," she said.

Oh, he doubted that.

"It was the right thing to do," she insisted as if her treachery were something to be proud of. "You can't pull through with your plan. It'll ruin you. I promise, we'll put this right."

Tom gazed at Hermione's small frame and he allowed himself to be washed away with his magic. It wrapped around him, twisting and coiling. The painful knot in his stomach turned into a wrathful flame that burned through him, giving clarity where there had been confusion before.

.

Tom still hadn't said anything and Hermione didn't know what to do anymore. She seriously considered taking him to Merope right now. Hermione just wanted to open her mouth to gingerly suggest this as Tom moved.

His eyes fell shut and he breathed in deeply. As his eyes re-opened they had lost their hazy, empty look. Sharply, his gaze cut into Hermione. Gone was the desperation and she was confronted with cold steel. Tom bent down to her and Hermione stiffened at the abrupt movement. He was so close. Yet, the steely glint still danced in his eyes. Tom barely moved his lips as he whispered to her,

"You think you can destroy me and I wouldn't seek revenge?"

His words were slow, weighed down by the hate wrapped around them, and threatened to smother Hermione. They made no sense to her. Tom's hands had wandered to her arms and suddenly his fingers were painfully biting into her.

"You're going to pay," Tom stated, cold hate twisting his voice.

Suddenly, dark magic poured from the wizard, crashing into Hermione with a brutal force she had not expected. A soft whimper left her as she felt Tom's magic seeping into her Dark Mark, cutting and slicing into her own magic. It was a cruel, cold force that left no room for mercy. Instantly, hot liquid ran down her left forearm and Hermione knew her mark was bleeding, ripped open by Tom's anger. She cried out in pain. This had never happened before and suddenly fear rolled over her, taking her breath away. Feeling shaky, she looked up at Tom. He didn't comment further. Instead, he turned away from her and, one hand still brutally holding her, pulled her with him.

"T- Tom?" Hermione whispered, voice trembling.

Maybe she should have reached for her wand. Maybe she should have fought back more. Something. Anything. Hermione couldn't. Her thoughts raced. She couldn't follow any one and was paralyzed. What she felt were Tom's fingers painfully holding her, his powerful magic in the air and the hot sticky blood running down her arm.

Blindly, she was forced to follow after Tom. He was merciless as he pulled her with him and into the Great Hall. Hermione stumbled and almost tripped. Dimly, she heard the noise of the student body. Forks and knifes clinked, accompanied by chatter and laughter. The noises hushed down as Hermione was wrenched through the hall, many eyes following her and Tom.

Next thing she knew, she was in the middle of the Great Hall. Tom's fingers grasped her arm painfully as they stood right in front of the professor's table. Tom had wrenched her around so she was facing the four house tables. Hermione could see the sea of students staring at her. Tom's unforgiving grip on her and the curious stares of the students and professors made fear bubbling up in Hermione. Timidly, she tried to pull her arm away from Tom. She wanted to slip away from the spotlight she had been forced into.

"Tom?" she breathed shakily. "Let me go…"

As a response, his fingers on her tightened and he shook her. "I don't think so."

"Mr Riddle!" a shocked professor McGonagall exclaimed. "Let go of her this instant!"

Hermione glanced at the woman. McGonagall had sprung up from her chair. Indignation and anger were on her face as she stared at Tom. The other teachers had followed the display, equally shocked by the Head Boy's gruff demeanour. Tom remained to be unaffected by his professors' disapproval. Hermione flinched as she saw the evil smirk curling his lips.

"Oh, I will, professor," he replied, danger hidden in his silky voice. "But before I do, I have to show you something."

It was as she heard the sadistic tint in his tone that Hermione finally understood the danger she was in. Still, her brain was unable to process the implications of Tom's behaviour. She could barely breathe as she stared up at him. Tom gazed back at her and there was hate burning in his eyes. Panic curled around Hermione so tightly, she barely knew who she was anymore. Loudly her blood rushed in her ears and she felt faint with fear.

"T- Tom?" she stuttered anxiously. "What a- are you doing?"

"Yes," Dippet had finally found his voice. "We would all like to know that."

Tom smiled at the Headmaster. It was fake and Hermione could see the cruelty behind his mask. Even his polite reply mercilessly cut into Hermione,

"I apologize for this disturbance, Headmaster. All will be explained shortly."

With that Tom pulled his wand. Hermione watched in horror as he sharply sliced it through the air. It felt as if she had been pushed under an ice-cold waterfall. Tom's powerful magic washed over her, ripping her mask forcefully from her. Hermione cried out as she felt the Polyjuice potion's effect lift from her person. If Tom still hadn't held her by the arm, she would have fallen to the ground. Only numbly, Hermione heard the murmurs of surprise coming from the students and professors as she morphed back into her own body. She trembled heavily as her bushy curls lengthened and her face and body shifted back into their original shape.

"W- what is the meaning of this?" Dippet exclaimed, shocked by Hermione Rookwood's sudden transformation.

"Oh, this isn't all, I'm afraid," Tom said, vile tint to his voice.

By now, tears were streaming down Hermione's cheeks. She felt how his grip on her left arm tightened and with his other hand he reached for her sleeve. Hermione completely tensed up as the reality of the situation hit her. Tom pulled at her sleeve and Hermione started to tremble heavily. Her vision shrouded by tears, she peered up at him.

"No," Hermione begged him brokenly. "No, please. Don't. Not that, please."

Tom was relentless. He gazed into her eyes, cruel and unforgiving, as he slid her sleeve up her arm. Hermione couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She looked down at the ugly Dark Mark that had been branded into her skin. She felt faint. Unprotected, it was laid out in the open.

"N- no…"

Tom wrenched her arm up, clearly displaying her forearm for everyone to see. Hermione was helpless. She cried, sobs wrecking her body. She could feel the students' unforgiving stares on her and hear their disgusted outcries. Her own gaze was directed to the floor. Hermione was unable to look anyone in the eyes.

Tom's grip on her tightened again. Then he forcefully shoved her away. Hermione lost her balance and was thrown to the floor. She cried out in pain and quickly curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. Voices washed over her. Angry, loud and accusing. Disgusted, disgusted, disgusted. Hermione curled up even tighter and squeezed her eyes shut.

†

What followed, Hermione couldn't remember. Her vision was blurred by tears and she couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears. There were hands grabbing her, pulling her, forcing her away. Her wand was gone.

She was gone, too.

She ended up in a small, cold chamber. Far away from the students' eyes. The stone walls were bare and the room dimly lit. Hermione was mute and could only stare with wide eyes at Dippet and McGonagall as they argued.

"I can't believe it, Minerva," Dippet exclaimed, wringing his hands nervously. "What will the parents say when they hear about it? It's a  _scandal_! We'll never live this down. Horrible. What if the press gets wind of it?! Oh, it's horrible… horrible… Umbridge'll have my head…"

Hermione was huddled on the cold stone floor, her back pressed against the wall, as she observed her…  _former_  professors. Dippet nervously paced to and fro, sinking deeper into a panic with each step. Professor McGo-  _Mistress_   _McGonagall_ , Hermione corrected herself harshly. McGonagall was standing there with a stony expression as her gaze wandered over Hermione. Dippet's beady eyes also fell on Hermione. Unlike McGonagall's, there was no sadness on the Headmaster's face. He glared angrily at her. Turned to McGonagall, he said in disgust,

"We need to get her out of that uniform as fast as possible."

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard it. Subconsciously her hands fisted around the red-golden lapels of her robe. No. She wanted to stay. Hermione's heart clenched painfully. She couldn't go back to… to being  _nothing_  again. Pleadingly, Hermione looked at McGonagall.

_Don't do this to me._

As McGonagall gazed back at Hermione, her otherwise so stern countenance wavered. Her eyes were suddenly soft. Sadness and regret were mirrored on her face.

"Headmaster," she said cautiously. "Hermione is an excellent student. She deserves her place at this school. I really thi-"

"Minerva!" Dippet fumed. " _Everyone_  has seen her mark. She's a Mudblood! Clearly she cheated in her classes. There is no way I would allow  _her_  to attend this school. The parents'll lynch me."

He threw a furious glare at Hermione who fearfully flinched. Dippet then pulled his wand and waved it erratically. A thin grey tunic popped out of thin air. The Headmaster grabbed the tunic and harshly tossed it at Hermione.

"Get out of the school robes," he ordered her sharply.

Then he again turned to McGonagall and continued his lament. Hermione held the coarse grey fabric in her shaky hands while fear and grief made her throat constrict painfully. McGonagall, seeing tears rolling down Hermione's cheeks, said indignantly,

"Let's at least step outside while the poor girl changes, Headmaster."

Dippet, though, wasn't even listening to her. He again paced to and fro, stomping his feet angrily, while he painted a very dark picture of Hogwarts' future now that Hermione had tainted it. McGonagall threw the Headmaster a sour look. Then she stepped between Dippet and Hermione to grant Hermione as much privacy as was possible.

Hermione's whole body trembled and the tears wouldn't stop to flow from her eyes as she began to undress. Her heart clenched achingly as she slipped out of her Gryffindor robes. Soon her jumper, a black top and her jeans followed. Hermione felt horribly naked as she stood there, in front of her professors, in nothing but bra and knickers. She didn't look up to see whether they were observing her. Nausea mounted up in her as she reached for the grey tunic and with trembling hands slipped into it. The coarse fabric chafed uncomfortably over her skin. It was short-sleeved. Hermione shuddered as her mark was now in the open, for everyone to see.

"I can't believe this could happen," Dipped cried in outrage. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Maybe we should interview Mr Riddle," McGonagall's quiet voice replied. "He should know more. After all, he was quite close to Ms Rookwood."

"No, no," the Headmaster instantly dismissed it. "I already talked with him. He's quite innocent in this. Believe me, he had no idea. He only just found out. Couldn't believe it himself at first."

McGonagall eyed him sceptically and remarked, "Mr Riddle was in a relationship with Hermione. How could he have not known?"

Dippet shook his head, sad expression on his face. "That's the worst of it all, don't you think? Such a betrayal. He was more than a little shaken by this business. Blames himself, of course, the poor chap."

As she was dressed, Hermione swallowed down her tears and stood, with her head bent, in the painfully familiar posture, awaiting any orders. Dippet droned on and on while Hermione was trapped in her own personal hell, unable to do anything. After an eternity Dippet finally left in a huff, throwing one last death glare in Hermione's direction.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," McGonagall said, sadness lacing her voice. "I'll try to talk with the Headmaster."

Hermione smiled faintly at her former professor and whispered hoarsely, "It's fine, Mistress McGonagall."

The other woman winced as she heard that new title. Something pulled at Hermione's chest as she saw it and she decided that it was best not to investigate that painful feeling.

"My name's not 'Hermione'. It's 'Penny'."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **There are cemeteries that are lonely,**

**graves full of bones that do not make a sound,**

**the heart moving through a tunnel,**

**in it darkness, darkness, darkness,**

**like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves,**

**as though we were drowning inside our hearts,**

**as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul.'**

**\- Pablo Neruda**

**(*1904 † 1973)**


	30. Fetters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: oh boy, oh boy, after last chapter, I see many of you don't like Tom that much anymore. Yeah, I can't blame you. We should really start shipping Hermione with someone safer… then again Tomione is just too much fun to write hehehe It's too late to stop now. Wheeee!
> 
> Okay, this chapter focuses mostly on Hermione. Because there's a lot going on with her now. After all, her whole world has been turned upside down. Thanks for that, Tom T_T
> 
> For all you history nerds ^^ The poem at the end of this chapter is an old magic spell that was found in Merseburg, Germany. It's pre-Christian and rooted in the old pagan belief system. The last two lines represent the actual spell which was supposed to free prisoners. So, I thought, maybe Hermione needs a charm like that ;)
> 
> Many, many thanks to everyone who left kudos or a comment!!! ＼(^o^)／

Hermione didn't know what was going to happen to her. Like a thick blanket, fear had wrapped around her and she felt unable to comprehend her situation. She sat in that small chamber for hours, alone with her dark thoughts.

"Hermione?" a voice startled her from her misery.

Slowly, Hermione raised her face. McGonagall had returned to the temporary prison cell. Hermione hastily scrambled up and bowed to the witch. An uncomfortable look flittered over the professor's face, but she didn't comment.

"Follow me."

A flush of panic hit Hermione hard. Was that it now? Was McGonagall to be the one to hand her over to the Snatchers? Her body started to tremble as Hermione obediently stumbled over to the witch. McGonagall put a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder, steering her out of the chamber. Hermione barely saw where she was going. Hogwarts' corridors looked darker and colder than she had ever seen them, like a black veil had been thrown over everything. Her knees shook as she followed McGonagall to what could only be her execution. They reached a narrow staircase and descended deeper into the castle. Hermione's mind didn't want to stop supplying her with images of what the Snatchers would do to her.

"Dippet didn't alert the authorities," McGonagall's calm voice stated.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes wide with confusion, she stared at the witch. For a moment, she forgot her status and dared to ask,

"What?"

McGonagall sent her a weak smile. "The Headmaster wants to keep this quiet. So I suggested we'd let you stay at Hogwarts for the time being." Sadness swam in the professor's eyes as she added, "Dippet agreed, but he won't allow you to be a student anymore. You'll have to work at Hogwarts from now on."

Hermione's voice was shaky as she asked, "You want me to work here?"

"I'm very sorry, Hermione," McGonagall replied solemnly. "I'm afraid that's all I could do for you."

Hermione stared at the witch with wide eyes and a shaky breath of air left her. McGonagall had saved her life, hadn't she? Quickly, Hermione bowed to the woman and whispered a grateful,

"Thank you."

Still shaken by this development she peered up at McGonagall and asked timidly, "But what about the Snatchers?"

"They won't be called," the professor explained. "At least not by Hogwarts' staff. I can't promise that nothing will leak outside, though."

They entered a rather small corridor. It lacked all the paintings and tapestries Hogwarts' corridors usually displayed, but was quite bare. The undressed stone floor was uneven and polished with use. McGonagall stopped in front of a large wooden door. For a moment, her gaze rested heavily on Hermione, making her shuffle nervously. The usual sternness was absent in the professor's eyes, though. McGonagall cleared her throat, then she said softly,

"Hermione, you have been one of the best students I ever had the fortune to teach. You don't deserve this."

Hermione's stomach balled into a painful knot and she felt unable to reply anything. McGonagall sent her a sad smile.

"I don't know what has been going on between you and Tom Riddle. Mr Riddle is a student of mine, so I don't like speaking ill…" The professor hesitated shortly. Then she added in a serious tone, "You need to think about yourself now. Don't trust him. Never again."

Hermione nodded and replied in a small voice, "I know. Now I do."

McGonagall's hand tightened comfortingly on her shoulder. "Good luck."

Then she opened the door for Hermione. Reluctantly, Hermione stepped into the room behind and was instantly hit with loud clatter and the smell of food being made. The room was rather large, equipped with several workstations. Just a few steps away, a woman, dressed in the same grey tunic that Hermione wore, was busy frying a huge amount of bacon in a large pan. At another workstation, a man and a young girl cut loaves of bread into slices and arranged them on plates.

Shyly, Hermione walked further into what could only be Hogwarts' kitchen. She felt lost in the hustle and bustle of quite a number of Mudbloods as they prepared what was probably supposed to be the students' breakfast. Some of the Mudbloods had already noticed her presence and scanned her with blatant curiosity. Hermione nervously worried her lower lip.

"You must be Penny?" a voice leaked through her panic.

She whirled around. A middle-aged, rather short man had walked up to her. His brown hair was grey at the sides and mussed up by the steam in the kitchen. Hermione noticed how he wore a grey shirt with short sleeves. Her gaze quickly dropped to the Dark Mark tattooed into his skin. She shuddered and nervously fiddled with the fabric of her grey dress. Seeing her distress, the man smiled comfortingly.

"There's no need to be afraid," he soothed.

Hermione peered at him diffidently. The man still smiled at her and laugh lines creased the skin around his eyes.

"Welcome," the man said cheerfully. "It's good to have you. My name is Dobby."

Hermione tried to return the smile, but only managed a shaky grimace. "N- nice to meet you."

"Master told me you're to work with us."

Hermione looked at him, a hollow feeling creeping up on her. The master… Was that Dippet now?

"Yes," Hermione mumbled softly. "I'm supposed to stay here?"

"Yes, yes. That's what Master said." Dobby nodded immediately, still smiling. "Come, I'll show you where you can stay. Take a rest. I'm sure you need it. Breakfast is almost finished anyway. We don't need your help right now."

Hermione whispered a grateful, "Thank you."

Dobby led her through the kitchen. She kept her head bent, but still felt the eyes of the other Mudbloods on her. Her hands shook, so she curled them into fists, fingernails biting into her skin. Dobby manoeuvred her towards a small side door and into an adjacent room. It was dark and stuffy inside, probably due to the lack of any windows. Cots were crammed into the room so there was almost no place to walk. Dobby deftly wound through the maze of cots, Hermione hot on his heels, until he stopped in front of one.

"You can sleep here," he told Hermione amicably.

Hermione nodded timidly, gaze wandering over the thin mattress and blanket.

"We're a bit tight on space," Dobby said apologetically. "So we have to work and sleep in shifts. You'll share this cot with Ida. She's a cook maid." He rubbed a soothing hand over Hermione's shoulder. "Don't worry. Hogwarts is a good place. We always have enough food and we more or less work independently. If you ever have a problem with anything, you come to me. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Good," Dobby hummed. "Now get a bit of a rest. I'll send Winky to fetch you later. She'd be really thankful if you could help her with the laundry."

"Yes," Hermione replied insecurely.

"Oh, and here," Dobby said and offered her something wrapped in a piece of cloth. "I thought you might be hungry."

Hermione's lip wobbled slightly as she looked down at a slice of bread and a piece of cheese. "Thank you."

"No problem," Dobby said kindly. "Now, you take your time."

Then he left her to her own devices. Hermione weakly sank down on the cot. She wasn't really hungry, but she still forced herself to eat. She knew from her experience at Malfoy manor that she would soon need the energy. The bread tasted like ash in her mouth and she could barely swallow it.

As she was finished, Hermione remained to sit on the small cot in the stuffy room and vacantly stared into space. There were tears brimming in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Crying had never helped her anyway. Reluctantly, her gaze wandered down to her left forearm. She flinched as she stared down at her Dark Mark. The skin around the black lines was still reddened and cut open at places, an aftermath of Tom's anger.

A bruise wound around her wrist where he had grabbed her. Hermione stared down at the sullied skin and a handsome pale face with calm blue eyes danced through her mind. Tom. She could see him.  _Tom_. Tom how he smiled at her softly. Tom as he held her in his arms and she felt secure. He was so close she could smell his pleasant scent, feel the warmth of his body. Tom that powerful wizard who protected her, his magic like a shield around her. An easy smile on his lips, he led her away and into brightness.

Hermione couldn't breathe. It  _hurt_. Tom. What he'd done... there was no coming back from. He'd destroyed her. He'd mercilessly cut her down, knowing full well that his actions might cause her death. Hermione swallowed down her tears and instead shut her eyes, sucking in a steadying breath of air. It was time to push Tom away. The wizard who had saved her and protected her had never been more than a mirage.

Her eyes shot open as she felt someone flopping down beside her. A girl, not much older than herself, lounged on the cot. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a dirty grey scarf was wrapped around her head. The girl eyed Hermione, not even trying to be inconspicuous. Then she raised her eyebrows and asked,

"So, yas the new one?"

Hermione nodded in reply, nervously twisting her hands in her lab. The girl nodded but continued to scan Hermione. Then she extended a hand and said,

"I'm Mina."

Cautiously, Hermione shook the offered hand. "Penny."

Mina pursed her lips, still studying Hermione like a new curiosity in the zoo. Finally she allowed,

"We hev been talkin about yee. Yee were one of  _them_ , wasn't yee?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she whispered tonelessly, "I… Did you hear that?"

"Wey aye," Mina chattered easily. "Yee were geet posh like them. Complete wi' uniform an' whatnot."

The girl still ogled Hermione, either not noticing or caring how it made Hermione uncomfortable. Her gaze wandered over Hermione's dress, taking in the ragged fabric, and stopped at the bushy locks. Then Mina shrugged her shoulders and said,

"Nowt lasts forevor."

There really was nothing for Hermione to add, so she remained to be silent. Mina got up from the bed and said,

"I hev to go back. Ta'ra, mate."

†

Tom lay in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He had already missed breakfast and Charms would start soon, but he just couldn't get up. A strange exhaustion had taken hold of his whole body. He had slept deeply without any dreams visiting him. And yet he woke up and felt exhausted.

Tom let his arm fall to the side, feeling the empty mattress under the tips of his fingers. His rash acts from yesterday swirled through his head. It never was a good idea to let one's emotions govern one's actions. Luckily, Tom had been able to wriggle out of the predicament. As always, Dippet had bought his lies. It hadn't even been that difficult to convince him. The Headmaster would never suspect his favourite student of any wrong-doings.  _Of course_  the trustworthy Head Boy had had no idea that Hermione Rookwood really was a Mudblood in disguise. Tom Riddle remained to be innocent… at least in Dippet's eyes.

Tom sighed deeply and closed his eyes. He was so tired, he would skip Charms. Maybe Dippet believed him, but McGonagall didn't. A lot of the students probably didn't either. Hermione had been his  _girlfriend_. What were the chances that he'd never seen her forearms uncovered? There was suspicion, suspicion flying around him. It had stuck to him the same way when he'd killed the Longbottom boy. People had wondered, had voiced their doubts behind closed doors, had regarded him warily, fearfully.

_And yet…_

And yet, no-one had been able to prove his guilt. Tom knew this would blow over as well. The suspicion would stick to him, but it wouldn't be enough. Having Hermione pose as a Pureblood might have been a risky decision, but Tom had planned for the eventuality of her exposure from day one. He knew how to beguile the right people and he knew which ones to threaten into silence. Sure, the situation was complicated by the fact that Lupin knew the depth of Tom's involvement, but he had an appropriate response for that as well. There was no room for mistakes, but as long as Tom was careful no-one could touch him.

Tom threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out all light. The darkness was soothing. The painfully empty room disappeared. His actions yesterday had been a kneejerk reaction – so much he could admit – but Hermione had deserved everything she got. Her betrayal had taken Tom by surprise. He berated himself that he had let her get so close in the first place. If he'd been more observant, he would have been able to see through her treachery before it had been too late. Still, he was on top of this. He was safe. He would get away with it.

Then why…? Why did he feel so odd? Like something was looming over him?

Tom had no idea how to fix it. The situation didn't need fixing anymore. He  _had_  fixed it yesterday. Everything was back on track. The loss of Slytherin's Locket was a set-back, but it wasn't fatal to his plans. He could do this. He was in control.

Tom groaned softly. He could still see her face. There was pain and betrayal. Fear …and disgust. Maybe it was hate. He wasn't sure. It wasn't like he could ask her anymore. Briefly, Tom wondered where Hermione now was. As soon as the thought touched his mind, he hastily pushed it away. He didn't really want to think about it.

He rolled over on his side and curled up, pressing his face into the pillow as if to hide. He felt abandoned, alone, and the sense of impending doom kept torturing him.

†

Feeling numb, Hermione folded the freshly laundered uniforms and sorted them into stacks. Each time she came upon a Gryffindor emblem or the red and gold colours, her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. Her eyes tickled traitorously, but Hermione stubbornly kept the tears in. Her eyes were probably red, though, and she was glad that in the damp, steamy laundry room no-one would be able to see it.

"Are those finished?" a plump woman with a harried air floating around her asked.

Hermione nodded. The woman, Winky as Hermione had learned, hastily sorted the folded uniforms into baskets and complained, stressed tinge to her voice,

"I'm already late with these. The clothes those folks use each day, you have no idea, Penny."

Winky balanced one basket under each arm and said, "I have a washtub of bedclothes over there that needs to be mangled. Can you get to that?"

"Of course," Hermione replied softly.

Winky sent her a grateful smile before she rushed off. Hermione sighed softly as she walked over to the tub. She already felt incredibly tired and her workday wasn't even half over yet. Laundry duty was always hard work. Sullenly, Hermione looked at the mountains of bedclothes. At least, she wasn't supposed to do this completely without magic. Reluctantly, she pulled the bright red wand from her pocket that Dobby had given her. The stick of wood felt painfully hollow in her hand and Hermione knew it would only allow her to cast the most simple of spells.

Feeling slightly sick, she waved the wand at the bedclothes. Her magic slowly wobbled through the wood and sluggishly formed into a spell. One of the bed sheets floated into the air, stretched itself out and then slipped into the clothes wringer. Hermione put the hated pseudo-wand away and started to turn the wheel of the wringer. Soon sweat was running down her forehead. This wasn't made any easier by the knowledge that had she been allowed her old chestnut wand, she'd been finished in half the time.

A feeling of desolation and hopelessness had taken a hold of Hermione as she put what felt like the hundredth bed sheet into the wringer. The walls of the laundry room seemed to press in on her and she could barely breathe. Hermione wondered if Sirius might be able to help her get out of this situation. For her Hogwarts was not a safe haven anymore. It was only a matter of time until her story would leak. Then she would be taken away by the Snatchers  _…or Umbridge._ Hermione shuddered fearfully.

Her already slightly blistered hands tightened around the wheel of the clothes wringer as traitorous doubts seeped into her thoughts. Even if she managed to reach Sirius, why would the leader of the Order of the Phoenix care about her? She had mucked things up and expected him to swoop in and save her? Why should he?

_Sirius always wanted to help,_  a soft voice tentatively pointed out.

Hermione pressed her eyes shut and ran a hand through her curly hair. Yes, that was what Sirius had  _said_ , just like Tom had promised to never give her away. Now she was exposed, a liability. Who was to say that Sirius wouldn't drop her as well?

Hermione breathed in deeply and continued to furiously turn the wheel of the wringer. Fear clouded her mind. She didn't really know Sirius. She'd seen him what? Twice? Tom had been a lot closer to her and she still hadn't been able to see through his lies. What if Sirius wanted to use her as well and then she'd be left in an even worse situation.

Her thoughts cautiously drifted away from the Order and towards a certain werewolf. She could trust Lupin at least, couldn't she? Hermione's stomach knotted unpleasantly. She just wasn't sure anymore. Of anything. Maybe it was best to wait before she acted hastily. Surely, Lupin would return from his mission soon; then she'd talk with him.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was Friday and the second day of Hermione working as a Mudblood at Hogwarts. She was already exhausted from the hard work, her body hurting dully, and she was constantly tired. The only upside that she could see was that working in the laundry room kept her hidden away from the students' eyes. Panic clouded her mind whenever she thought of meeting any of her old peers. There was no way she could face them now that they knew what she really was.

"Penny?"

Hermione looked up from her work of carefully ironing a pair of trousers. Dobby had found her. There was a small, almost apologetic, smile on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But could you go up to the Great Hall? We need more hands to help with the feast preparations."

Hermione felt something squeeze around her heart. She'd completely forgotten that Beltaine would be celebrated tomorrow. She swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the tight feeling around her throat. She'd planned to attend the ball with Tom.

"Yes, of course," she whispered in a subdued voice.

"Thanks, Penny," Dobby said, looking quite relieved. "You're an angel."

Sliding the hated red wand in her pocket, Hermione mumbled, "I doubt that."

Dobby wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and told her softly "I promise, it's gonna get better."

Quickly, Hermione left the laundry room and hurried through the hidden pathways and secret passages. As she had been a student, she had had no idea that there was a whole network of passageways hidden from sight. Bending low, Hermione pressed herself through a rather narrow and dark passage. The stone walls were rough and undressed, the floor uneven and showed puddles of water at places. It was a far cry from the wide and well-lit corridors Hogwarts' students used. Still, Hermione was glad she could use these pathways. She was terrified of meeting any of the students or professors.

Hermione gasped softly as she almost ran into a flight of stairs she hadn't seen in the twilight. Her hand slid along the damp wall for support as she ascended, careful not to trip over a slanted step. As she reached the Great Hall, she breathed out a sigh of relief. There was no student to be seen. Only Mudbloods occupied the hall. They had already pushed away the four large house tables to create more space and were now busy arranging feast decorations and putting up a small stage for the band.

"Hey, you're Penny, aren't you?" one of the Mudbloods called her.

Hermione nodded and quickly scurried over to him. The man stood on a ladder and carefully attached colourful garlands to the wall. He grinned down at her and said,

"You can help me."

"Yes," she said dutifully and already reached for another garland to hand it to him.

†

A few hours later and the Great Hall was almost unrecognizable. The floor was brightly polished while smaller round tables had replaced the large house tables and were adorned with white tablecloths and beautiful ribbons. More ribbons and garlands decorated the walls and playfully spanned over the ceiling. The middle of the hall was kept free, creating a dance floor. The stage was completed and only waited for the musicians to play a catchy tune for the party guests.

Hermione stood by the doors and her jaded eyes longingly wandered over the festive room. Wan look on her face, she let her eyes travel over the decorations. A feeling of inadequacy overwhelmed her in face of the beautiful room. Self-consciously, Hermione brushed down her grey dress. She only managed to make it even more dirty with the grease she had smeared all over her hands while helping to set up the scaffolding for the stage.

"Hey, Penny," Pete, one of the Mudbloods, called her. "We're almost finished. If you want, you can take a break."

Hermione threw him a meek smile. "Thank you."

Silently, she slipped out of the Great Hall. The entrance to one of the side passageways wasn't far away. Keeping her head down, she quickly scurried towards the hidden door. This time, though, her luck ran out. Before Hermione could reach the door, she ran into a group of Slytherins. Instantly, she recognized the faces: Dolohov, Goyle and Draco Malfoy. Instantly, Hermione froze, rooted to the floor, and fearfully stared at the three Slytherins. An evil smirk appeared on Dolohov's face as he recognized her.

"Oh, look at that. It's the little Mudblood." He tugged at Hermione's dress and asked in mock concern, "What happened to your school uniform?"

Hermione didn't say anything, but stared down at the floor. The only thing she could hear was the cruel laughter of the Slytherins and her own blood rushing in her ears.

"Answer him," Goyle prodded gruffly.

Without ever looking up, Hermione mumbled, "I'm not a student anymore, Master Dolohov."

Her admission was greeted with more laughter and nasty sneers. Hermione shuffled nervously, fighting the need to run away. Through the corners of her eyes she could see Draco watching her. Grey eyes glinting in a baleful light, the Slytherin fixed Hermione with a stare. He hadn't said anything yet, but it was painfully obvious that he knew exactly who she was. Hermione felt her heart hammering away in her chest, driven by fear.

"Merlin, this is hilarious," Dolohov snorted. "A Mudblood dressed up like a real person. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it possible."

Grinning sharply, he took a threatening step towards Hermione. She wanted to shy away from him, but knew better than to try to get away. Dolohov grabbed a handful of her curly hair and painfully forced her head back so she had to look at him. Hermione whimpered softly and fearfully blinked up at him. A vile smirk played around Dolohov's mouth as he sneered down at her. His voice was soft, but laced by a vicious undercurrent as he said,

"Tell me, was it fun smearing your filth all over this noble school?"

Hermione's whole body trembled and her scalp hurt where he brutally pulled at her hair. She didn't know what to do and only managed a pathetic,

"I'm sorry."

Dolohov laughed nastily and released his tight grip on her. Hermione stumbled back. Her head and neck hurt now, but she didn't dare rub her aching skin. Again she stood in front of the three Slytherins and bowed to them.

"If you were mine," Dolohov hissed at her hatefully. "I would curse you within an inch of life."

Hermione's eyes widened anxiously and she bowed even deeper. It was Goyle who remarked ruthlessly,

"I don't think anyone would complain if you did."

A contemplative look appeared on Dolohov's face and Hermione's blood turned icy-cold with dread. In the end, though, Dolohov didn't pull his wand.

"No," he decided callously. "I don't want to take that pleasure away from her  _Master_."

Hermione shuddered at the last word.

"Well, I'm not sure Riddle is really that displeased with her," Draco's silky voice suggested.

An almost fearful look crossed Dolohov's face. Quickly he turned his head to check if anyone was near-by. Then he glared at Draco.

"I think you should keep your big mouth shut."

Draco remained to be unimpressed by the other's anger and replied smoothly, "Come on, we all know he was behind this. No-way a stupid  _Mudblood_  could have pulled this off without help."

Dolohov looked at Draco for a moment as if he thought the other had lost his mind. Then he shook his head and disdainfully informed, "You know what? One of these days, Riddle's gonna kill you. And I'll be there in a front seat cheering him on."

Quickly, the two Slytherins descended into an argument. Hermione still awkwardly had her head bent and wondered if she should dare make a run for it. Before she came to a decision, a gentle hand fell on her shoulder and a voice whispered to her,

"Come."

Not daring to look up, she felt herself being led away. Her whole body still trembled heavily. They entered a smaller corridor and left the arguing Slytherins behind.

"Hermione?" the soft voice spoke again.

She bit the inner side of her cheek hard as she heard her true name. Tears that she couldn't allow to fall clung to her eyes as she looked up. Regulus Black stood before her.

"Are you alright?"

He scanned her worriedly. Hermione could only nod. A thin smile curled Regulus' lips and he breathed out in relief.

"I'm glad." He sighed, still eyeing her in concern. "I was so scared when they dragged you from the Great Hall yesterday. I thought you'll get… That they'll…"

He swallowed thickly. Hermione threw him a small smile and whispered, "So did I."

"Are you working at Hogwarts now?" Regulus questioned cautiously.

"Yes," Hermione admitted reluctantly. "McGonagall made Dippet keep me."

"Well…" Regulus ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Still better than the alternative."

The Slytherin breathed in deeply while his gaze raked over Hermione. She shuddered as she saw the guilt on his face.

"If only I had known sooner…" Regulus sighed.

Hermione looked at him in confusion. "Known what?"

The Slytherin sent her an awkward smile. "If I'd known what you are, I wouldn't have sent you the letter. That started it all, didn't it? Your argument with Riddle."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y- you…? The letter from RAB… That was you?!"

Regulus laughed softly. "Regulus Arcturus Black."

"I- I didn't know," stammered Hermione.

He grinned at her. "No-one knows my middle name around here." The mischievous glint drained from his eyes and he added sadly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I sent you that letter. It's all my fault."

Hermione shook her head. "No. No, it's not. Tom did that to me not you."

"That bastard," Regulus cursed under his breath. "It's despicable. How could he just give you away like that?"

"I should have expected it," she whispered in a dull tone. "Everyone warned me about him."

"He's a good liar," was Regulus' reply as he smiled at her faintly. "And he's got exactly what he wants. No-one can stop him now."

" _We_  can still stop him," Hermione insisted. "He hasn't yet managed to get all the Founders' objects. We'll find them and he can't turn them into Horcruxes."

"Hermione," the Slytherin replied awkwardly. "Don't you think you have other problems now?"

Hermione exhaled shakily. He was right, but she really didn't want to face her own terrible situation.

"We'll stop him," she repeated, desperation lacing her tone. "We have to."

"There's nothing we can do," Regulus sighed tiredly. "I tried to stop him, but he's too powerful. That's why I wrote you. I thought, you might be able to-" He stopped and shook his head in defeat.

"Regulus." Hermione gazed up at him, serious look on her face. "He is going to murder someone. I know about Neville. Tom's gonna do it again."

Regulus laughed mirthlessly, the sound echoing harshly from the walls. "There's nothing I can do. You were my last hope."

His eyes wandered over her, taking in her dirty dress and the Dark Mark on her forearm. Regulus bit his lip and forced a weak smile on his face.

"It's over," he told her softly. "You have to let it go."

Squaring her shoulders, she decided firmly, "No. I won't let him get away with this."

If she did, there would be nothing left. If she gave up fighting, she might as well be dead. The artificial smile still hung from Regulus' lips and he gently shook his head. "You can't stop him. Not like this."

Uncomfortably, Hermione tugged at the coarse fabric of her dress. Was that really it? Had she returned to nothing? Invisible, powerless. Once again, worth nothing. Seeing the pain welling up in her eyes, Regulus stepped closer to her and gingerly rubbed a hand over her arm.

"Don't be sad. It's not your fault."

Hermione felt something brutally clenching around her heart. Her lower lip trembled traitorously and she bit it hard.

"Why does it matter so much?" she spat a question that yet no-one had been able to answer. "That I'm a Mudblood. Always, it's that. I'm  _not_  useless."

"Of course not," Regulus soothed gingerly.

He grasped her by the shoulders. Hermione didn't know what to think as he tried to reason with her, "But in your position, there's nothing you can do. There is no way you can stop Riddle. Don't fight him. He'll only hurt you even more."

Regulus smiled sadly and looked at her as if she was some kind of broken good. "You have talent. So much talent. This is not about you being weak… There's just nothing to be done, Hermione."

Hermione felt an ice-cold darkness mercilessly wrap around her, stifling everything. She couldn't breathe as she stared at Regulus with dead eyes. He had abandoned all hope, hadn't he? She'd known her situation was dire, but if there really was no way out, what was the point anymore? Regulus saw the pain pooling in her eyes. Pity appeared on his face and he quickly wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"Don't cry. It's not your fault. You did your best."

Regulus' embrace and the pity hurt. In a twisted way, this was even worse than having to face Tom's disdain and hate. Regulus didn't believe in her at all. Was there really no hope for her? Hermione shuddered, but forced herself to hold back the sobs that wanted to break from her. Finally Regulus released her from that affectionate, terrible embrace.

"Don't worry about Riddle anymore," he told her gently. "He's not your problem. It's fine, really." He shook his head. "I don't even want to imagine how it must have felt for you to be forced to act as a Pureblood. Riddle is a cruel bastard for putting you through all that."

"It…" Hermione confessed tonelessly. "It's worse now. I'm- I don't know what to do." She looked up at him in desperation. "I can't be  _this_  anymore."

Regulus scanned her in worry. "Look, I know this is bad. But I won't abandon you." He ran a reassuring hand over Hermione's arm. "I'll get you out of here. I'll ask Dippet if I can buy you. He's probably gonna be happy to get rid of you."

Hermione looked up at him, hope daring to unfold in her heart. "You'd- you'd really do that for me?"

"Of course." Regulus smiled at her. Then he continued and each gentle word cut cruelly into her, "You can work at Black manor until I graduate. Then I planned to move out anyway and you can come with me and work for only me."

For a second she just stared at him, hoping she'd misunderstood. "W- work for you?"

Regulus nodded, still smiling gently. "Yes. It's gonna be fine. It's not like I ever really needed a Mudblood of my own, so you wouldn't even have to do anything. It's going to be like a vacation. I promise. It'll be fine."

Hermione stared at him. Her eyes prickled but she didn't want to cry. Was that the solution? Her trading one master for another? Was that all she could hope for?

"I- I can't-" she stuttered helplessly, desperate for him to understand. "Can't go back. I was a student. I was…  _normal_. I want- There's so much I want to  _do_. I can't go back."

Regulus nodded and smiled at her sadly. "I know. But you have to be reasonable. This charade would have never worked out. If it hadn't been Riddle, something else would have blown your cover. You really need to be realistic now."

Hermione stared at him and didn't know what to do. She just nodded mechanically. There was nothing she could have said. She felt so sick and was afraid that, should she open her mouth, she would just scream.

Regulus threw her an encouraging smile that felt strangely patronizing. "It's for the best."

Again Hermione nodded. Her voice was strained and hoarse as she said, "I have to go back to the kitchens."

"Of course."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was late in the night that same day that Hermione ghosted through the Gryffindor common room, cleaning up. She was immensely grateful that the students were already asleep. There was no way she could handle it if anyone else saw her like this. The Slytherins had been bad enough. She just didn't want to see the reactions of her own housemates.

Hermione rubbed a shaky hand over her face before she continued scrub the soot from a near-by fireplace off the carpet. Vividly, she could remember how she'd sat on the sofa in front of the very same fireplace, happily chatting with the Gryffindor students while enjoying the warm fire. Now she was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.

"Mione?"

Hermione stiffened. Slowly she stood up before she turned around. Ginny came walking down the stairs. Her red hair was ruffled and she wore her pyjamas. Hermione's stomach churned wistfully as she saw Ginny. The red-head came to a halt directly in front of her. A small smile curled her lips as she scanned the older girl.

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione wanted to return the smile. In the end, though, she couldn't manage it. She just lowered her head and replied hesitantly,

"Cleaning the common room."

Embarrassment burned up in Hermione as she stood before Ginny in her filthy dress, fidgeting around with the cleaning rag in her hand. Ginny, though, didn't seem to mind at all. A soft smile hung from her lips as she stepped closer to Hermione and slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Come here," Ginny said firmly and pulled Hermione over to a sofa. "Sit down."

Shortly, Hermione hesitated. She really wasn't allowed to use any of the Gryffindor common room's furniture anymore. The soft pressure of Ginny's hand on her arm convinced her to sink down on the soft sofa.

"Here," the red-head said, offering Hermione a box of chocolate frogs.

"T- thank you, Mistress Weasley," Hermione stammered and reached for one of the sweets.

As Ginny didn't reply anything, Hermione peered at her. The girl's mouth hung half open and shock glinted in her brown eyes. Then Ginny whispered incredulously,

"M- Mistress…?"

Hermione didn't know what to reply. So she just nodded. Ginny's eyes grew even wider. Disbelief washed over her pretty features. Abruptly, she reached for Hermione and pulled her into a hug. Hermione stiffened and a shudder ran through her. She couldn't believe that the girl would touch her. Not now, that everyone knew she was a Mudblood. Hermione couldn't help it, though, and leaned into the touch. The warmth of Ginny's body near her managed to soothe her.

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny whispered gently. "I'm not  _Mistress Weasley_. I'm Ginny. Your friend." She tightened her arms around Hermione. "I'll always be your friend."

Hermione's breathing was short as her eyes burned even more. Ginny released her from her tight hug and gave Hermione a bit more space.

"Hermione? What is going to happen to you now?" she asked gingerly. "Dean, Ron, Seamus and me… everyone in Gryffindor really, we're worried. We want to help."

Hermione nervously fiddled with a strand of her curly hair. She didn't dare meet Ginny's eyes and whispered shakily,

"I don't know. I think I'll work here for now. I guess Dippet is trying to keep this quiet as long as possible. But…" She cautiously looked up at Ginny. "What I did. It's really bad. I don't- They're sure to punish me  _severely_ …"

Ginny stared at her. "Punish…?"

Hermione gulped nervously before she admitted weakly, "Yes. I- I'm surprised they haven't…" She shuddered fearfully. "haven't already… carried out the sentence."

Ginny looked at her contemplatively. Then she reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of newspaper. She smoothed it out before handing it to Hermione.

"Maybe that's why your case slipped a bit out of the focus."

Blinking in confusion, Hermione accepted the newspaper. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the headline on page one.

' _ **Ancestry of Hogwarts' professor under suspicion**_

_Remus Lupin, professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, faces trial before the Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines after doubts concerning his parentage were raised. An anonymous tip has levelled grave incriminations against Captain Lupin, member of the Werewolf Corps and former Hogwarts student. The ongoing investigation is made difficult by the fact that the Corps has always rejected a mutual extradition agreement. Currently, Lupin manages to avoid arrest by residing on Werewolf territory._

_Captain Lupin has been responsible for educating Hogwarts' sixth and seventh year students in Duelling and Dark Arts since he joined the staff three years ago. Colonel Fenrir Greyback, Lupin's commanding officer, outright rejected all negotiations regarding an extradition even if Lupin's status as Pureblood is revoked._

' _It's a scandal,' comments Madame Dolores Umbridge, Head of OMB, and criticises the special status Werewolves are benefitting from. The Corps still operates under pre-Grindelwald conditions and makes no distinction between Purebloods, Halfbloods and even Mudbloods. 'This puts our society in danger,' Madame Umbridge insists and advocates a strict segregation from the Werewolf Corps and an expansion of Snatchers' rights to intervene. (For more information see pg. 11 to 13)'_

"I don't think he'll return," Ginny said, sadness leaking through her voice.

Hermione looked up from the paper. A feeling of desperation was crushing her with might.  _Lupin…_  He wouldn't just leave her here, would he? Ginny eyed her, concern clear in her eyes. She reached for Hermione and gently skimmed her hand over her arm. Then she asked cautiously,

"Look, you didn't do anything wrong. They can't  _punish_  you."

Indignation was wrapped around the word as if Ginny doubted Hermione could be held responsible for her actions.

"They can," Hermione mumbled. "It's their right."

"For what?" Ginny cried in outrage. "For you wanting to go to school?!"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, not able to say anything, and Ginny continued angrily, "This is so wrong."

Hermione avoided her friend's furious eyes as she repeated numbly, "It's their right to discipline me."

"Hermione, no!" Ginny protested loudly.

She grabbed Hermione's chin and turned it so she had to look at the red-head. Ginny stared in Hermione's brown eyes as she said seriously,

"No-one – not Dippet and certainly not Riddle –  _no-one_  has the right to hurt you."

This time Hermione didn't break eye contact with Ginny as she whispered dully, "I'm a Mudblood. They can do whatever they want."

Ginny stared at Hermione, sadness and anger swimming in her pretty eyes. Gingerly, she took Hermione's hand in hers and held it comfortingly. Hermione shuddered at the contact. She closed her eyes and asked, her voice breaking,

"Can I stay here? Just for a little while?"

Instantly, Ginny slid closer to her and wrapped an arm around Hermione's trembling shoulders. With Ginny so near and the red and gold colours of the Gryffindor common room around her, Hermione could, just for a second, pretend to still be a student. Pretend, that her biggest problems were the upcoming NEWTs or the decision of what she shall do after her graduation. Hermione pressed herself closer against Ginny as finally tears spilled over. Soft sobs shook her body while Ginny cradled her in her arms.

"Sh, don't cry, Hermione," the red-head whispered soothingly. "We'll find a solution. You're the smartest person I've ever met. We'll force Dippet to let you go to classes. Then you can take the NEWTs with us. Everybody knows that you deserve it."

Ginny's warm words only made Hermione cry even harder. They were dreams nothing more. It took her a while to get her tears under control. Still shaking slightly Hermione slid a bit away from Ginny and sent her a watery smile.

"Thank you," whispered Hermione hoarsely.

"I'll talk with Dippet," Ginny promised. "I'll make him take you back."

Still smiling, Hermione shook her head.

"No," she said, sadness thick in her voice. "Dippet won't allow me to go to school. Even if he wanted to, he can't. I'm… It's not for me."

Ginny decidedly shook her head and grabbed Hermione's hand tightly. "Don't say that. You belong to Hogwarts. As a student."

"Maybe in a different life…" Hermione replied in a quiet voice.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Once the Idisi set forth,**

**to this place and that;**

**Some fastened fetters;**

**some hindered the horde,**

**Some loosed the bonds from the brave -**

**Leap forth from the fetters!**

**Escape from the foes!'**

**-** **The First Merseburg Charm, a blessing of release (9** **th** **– 10** **th** **century)**

**Idisi** , Disen or Valkyrie women


	31. Eat Your Cancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This time, I was faster with the new chapter ^o^ Don't get used to it, though lol Anyway, new chapter and this time with Tom's POV and more Hermione/Tom time. Because that's what this is all about ;)
> 
> To all you people who wait for an update of my other Tomione 'Bodyswitch': I'm on it. I promise. I didn't like the ending anymore, so there's lots to write and things to change. You'll have to be patient with me, but I haven't forgotten about the fic ^^
> 
> Big thank you to for all the comments and kudos for last chapter＼(^o^)／I'm happy you enjoyed last chapter. Thank you, you wonderful people!

If Tom hated anything, it were asinine school balls. Irritation already ripping at him, he adjusted his green tie and threw a last look in the mirror. Carefully, he brushed down the dark fabric of his coat. The suit he was wearing certainly was quite expensive, but it wasn't like he had paid for it. A crooked smirk crept on his face. He reached for the robe that hung over the back of a chair and slipped into it. It perfectly matched his suit and was embroidered by intricate silvery patterns at the lapels and the hems of the sleeves.

It was strange. This year Tom had been looking forward to the ball, but somehow he had lost the enthusiasm. Feeling disgruntled, he put his wand in the robe pocket and left the Heads' common room. He really had no desire to spend the evening penned up in a room full of pubescent idiots. Unfortunately, as Head Boy, he couldn't skip this event, especially not now that the whole school was watching his every step. He needed to present an impeccable mask so the rumours around him died down.

Tom sighed tiredly as he climbed down the Moving Staircase. It was too short a walk and he already reached the Great Hall. A contemptuous look wanted to slip on his face as Tom's gaze wandered over the hall. Enchanted lampions floated in the air, garlands were stretched over every surface and the hall was stuffed with people, chatting and laughing loudly, while irksome music droned on. With difficulty, Tom hid a dark scowl behind a fake smile. He had barely taken a few steps in as he was assaulted by Bellatrix Black. Dressed in a high-slit, tight ball gown, the girl looked devastatingly beautiful. Tom had no eyes for her beauty, though. He scowled down at her as Bellatrix leeched onto his arm.

"Toooom," she sung, ruthless smile twisting her full lips. "Where have you been? You're late."

The witch pouted while her eyes burned with a dangerous light as they blinked up at him. Tom arched an elegant eyebrow. He had no patience for dealing with the crazy girl.

"I wouldn't have come at all if I didn't have to," he informed her testily.

Bellatrix was not at all impressed by his foul mood. Instead she smirked up at him and needled, voice saccharine sweet,

"Wherever's your  _date_ , Tom? Don't tell me you of all people don't have a plus one."

"Why do you care?" he hissed, venom oozing from his voice.

The vicious streak melted from Bellatrix expression and she looked up at him with pure innocence. Smiling sweetly, she shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know." Faux concern dripped from her words as she suggested, "Maybe you wouldn't feel so alone if you'd waited with the  _unveiling_  until after the ball."

The smirk on her lips mocked him and Tom gritted his teeth irately. He didn't hide the menacing edge in his stern voice as he snapped,

"Bellatrix, enough."

Confronted with Tom's anger, the scorn immediately left Bellatrix and she took a cautious step away from him. Warily, she peered at him. Tom glared at her and didn't bother to hold back his magic that now wrathfully wrenched at Bellatrix. She flinched and then mumbled sulkily,

"I was joking. Dear Merlin, Riddle. Don't take it out on me. It's not my fault you ruined your toy."

She stiltedly brushed down her elegant dress and readjusted her silvery necklace. "I'm going back to my own date. Find me when you're not feeling so murderous anymore." A sharp smile worked its way back on Bellatrix' face. "…or when your murderous urges are directed at someone that's not me. Maybe you should get yourself something to drink. Might loosen you up."

With that she floated away, obviously intending to enjoy herself tonight. Tom's eyes were narrowed into slits as they followed the witch. This whole evening was a waste of his time. Listlessly, he let his gaze roam over the room. A band had set up their instruments on the stage, their music only provoking a headache in Tom, while a few couples showed off their questionable dancing skills. Tom rolled his eyes as he took in the girls' voluminous dresses, some glittering unpleasantly in the spot lights, and the boys' ill-fitting suits. Their shrill laughs and ingratiating smiles got on his nerves.

Feeling thoroughly fed up by this spectacle, Tom considered Bellatrix' suggestion. She was right. He needed something to drink or he would start cursing those idiots. He charmed a fake but attractive smile on his face as he walked through the Great Hall, nodding a greeting here and there. At last, he spied a table with refreshments. There even were a few bottles of wine, Tom noted contently. Instantly, he made to walk over to the wine, but soon stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and a flash of surprise shot through him.

Transfixed, he stared at the girl standing behind the buffet table. Hands busy pouring drinks, it was none other than Hermione. Tom struggled for composure. There was a stony look on Hermione's face as she poured drinks. She never looked up at anyone.

_What is she doing here?!_

Tom's shocked gaze travelled over her form. Hermione wore a shapeless, horribly ugly dress that hung from her slim frame. It instantly reminded him of the dress she had worn at Malfoy manor when he'd met her for the first time. Unbidden, Tom's thoughts jumped to the black dress he had bought her for this very ball. There was an odd twitch in his chest as he watched the girl.

Was she  _working_  at Hogwarts?

Hermione was pale and looked somehow ill. Tom furrowed his brow. He had thought she would finally leave him alone. He had got rid of her, so her treachery couldn't hurt him anymore. Now here she was like a ghost resurrected.

Tom could feel his magic pulsing through him, an angry confused mess. Careful not to draw attention to him, he slid to one of the small tables near-by. His gaze was fixed on Hermione as he sat. She hadn't seen him. Tom had  _dealt_  with the treacherous Mudblood. How dare Hermione continue tormenting him?

It was absolutely  _infuriating_.

His magic, agitated and twitchy, wound around the bond that chained her to him. Only just, he managed to stop himself from tugging at the bond, commanding her to come closer. His anger flared dangerously and he glowered lethally at the girl. She still had her head bent, curly hair obscuring her face, and Tom was _not_  relieved that she was still alive.

_Ridiculous_.

Temper peaking, he ripped his gaze away from her. Fiercely, he glared down at the arrangement of flowers on the table. He felt the urge to storm over to Hermione and grab her just to feel her reassuring presence. Tom growled furiously. His magic flared and the flowers caught fire.

Quickly, he smothered the fire with a blanket of his magic. Tom pressed his mouth into a thin line, still not looking at her. Why did this unsettle him so? It was confusing. Cautiously, he peered at Hermione. Once again, he was hit with the urge to go over there and touch her. Tom shook his head. Hermione was a danger to his plans. She had destroyed Slytherin's Locket.

It didn't stop him from wanting to reclaim her.

Tom angrily tugged at a cufflink of his shirt as he fought for calm. Maybe he was looking at this from the wrong angle? Hermione was his. Was it really so strange it would please him that his property was undamaged? The Mudblood, treacherous as she might be, still was very powerful, her magical talent an asset.

Pursing his lips, Tom let his eyes roam over the girl in question and a plan formed in his mind. Maybe this was a good thing. He may not be able to trust Hermione, but that didn't mean he had to relinquish ownership. This time, he would have to make sure that she obeyed him unconditionally. If Tom ensured Hermione's absolute subservience to him, there really was no reason why he shouldn't still use her.

.

It just wasn't  _fair_. Hands shaking with pure anger, Ginny twisted the napkin into a ball as she stared at Hermione. The girl was forced to stand there, wearing a dress that frankly looked like a potato sack, and to pour drinks like a faceless servant. Ginny's temper boiled close to the point of eruption as she had to watch how a group of slimy Slytherin sixth years laughed at Hermione and pointed at her, malicious looks on their faces. Hermione never looked up from her work, probably too scared.

"We should do something," a deep voice whispered into Ginny's ear.

She unfixed her gaze from Hermione and looked up at her boyfriend. Dean's eyes smouldered with the same rage that she felt herself. Ginny reached for his hand and replied sadly,

"I don't know what we  _can_  do."

Dean's jaw tensed and he growled, "We pull her away from there. This is horrible."

Ginny nodded and her eyes wandered back to Hermione. The Slytherins now demanded Hermione to pour them glasses of wine. Vile smirks adorned their faces as the girl hastened to obey them.

"We  _can't_ ," Ginny forced herself to say.

"What do you mean we can't," Dean huffed with righteous anger. "It's pretty straightforward. I'm gonna march over there, punch those assholes in the face and get her out of here."

Ginny bit the inner side of her cheek hard to stop herself from just cheering him on. Her heart gave a painful lurch as she saw how one of the Slytherin sixth years now snubbed at Hermione, obviously complaining about one silly thing or other. Hermione bowed submissively and quickly poured another glass. Ginny had to look away. She nestled against Dean and hid her face in his chest.

"I think Dean's got the right idea," another voice butted in.

A watery smile curled Ginny's lips as she looked up at her brother. Face purple with anger, Ron stared at her expectantly, almost hopefully, as if he waited for her go-ahead. Ginny hated to disappoint, but whispered shakily,

"We're gonna make it even worse for her if we do something rash."

Hearing the pain in her voice, Dean quickly draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled Ginny against him. Ron's hands balled into angry fists and he pressed out,

"Worse than  _this_? Look at her. Look what they did to her!"

Ginny swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the tears welling up in her. There was no way she could look them in the eyes as she admitted,

"It's my fault."

Ron's eyes widened and he stammered, "W- what do you mean?"

Voice heavy, Ginny explained, "I went to see Dippet today. I wanted to… to make him take Hermione back as a student."

"You did?" Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You never told me."

"I shouldn't have gone," Ginny hissed, angry with herself. "I made everything worse. Dippet didn't even listen. He just went into a rant about how Hermione besmirched Hogwarts and everything it stands for. Then he gave me a detention with Carrow, so I can be reminded of," Ginny grinded her teeth. "the 'right order of things'."

She held to Dean's hand as she added compunctiously, "I think Dippet forced Hermione to work here tonight, because I meddled. He wants the whole school to see that she  _is_  getting punished."

Ron's eyes widened and his eyes wandered back to Hermione. "What do you mean?"

Ginny sighed. "Well, first he wants to make sure that people like us don't get any  _wrong_  ideas of Hermione's status." Ginny crinkled her nose in displeasure as she gestured at the Slytherins. "And secondly, he wants to appease those knobs so they don't run to their parents and tell them stories of how Muggleborns run free at Hogwarts."

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Damn. What an arse-crawler."

"So what?!" Ron blustered. "We don't do anything?"

Ginny looked up at the boys. Serious tint lacing her words, she said, "We can't. If we mess up, only one mistake," Her gaze slipped back to Hermione. "and she could die."

.

Hermione stood behind the buffet table with a polite smile pasted on her face. It was so fake, it hurt. Now and then people came by and she refilled their glasses or fetched them new ones. Hermione tried not to look too closely at them. She preferred them to be a blur of unrecognizable faces.

It didn't help, though. Hermione could feel the stares on her and hear them chatter about her. She was deeply ashamed. Why did she have to be the one to serve at the buffet table? Everybody could see her, point and laugh.

Feeling painfully hollow, Hermione glanced at the dance floor. They all looked so nice in their dresses and suits. Her face heated up in shame as she thought of her own hideous work dress. Hermione's eyes spotted her former roommate, Lavender Brown, on the dance floor. Her shiny hair was pinned up and she wore a beautiful pink dress which sparkled in the light attractively. A happy smile lingered on Lavender's face as her date slowly spun her over the dance floor. Parvati, not far away with her own date, grinned at her best friend.

Hermione's eyes dropped from the happy couples and she refilled a few more glasses with wine before she arranged them on the table so people had easy access. All the while, she could feel that constant ache inside of her. The polite smile was still pinned on her face, but she felt like bursting into tears.

_Pull yourself together._

Hermione didn't even like dances or balls. All that dressing up and donning make-up was foreign to her. Surely, she would have felt out of place as a guest. Lavender and Parvati had probably dressed up in the dorm, giggling like crazy. Hermione couldn't relate to that. She would have felt uncomfortable. It was immature anyway. So inconsequential. So…

… _normal._

Another stab hit Hermione and she felt her heart clench painfully. No. She certainly would have felt uncomfortable. She really didn't like balls anyway.

However much she tried to persuade herself, Hermione's gaze wandered longingly over the dancing couples. They were having a nice time, laughing and talking. Hermione quickly averted her eyes and filled another glass with wine.

"I want red," a brusque voice made her head shoot up.

Expectantly holding a glass out to Hermione, Bellatrix stood in front of the table. Her black silk dress hugged her curves beautifully while a haughty look touched her pretty face. Hermione bowed her head servilely, feeling inadequate and disgusted with herself.

"Of course, Mistress Black."

A smug smirk curved Bellatrix' red lips. Utterly embarrassed, Hermione obeyed and filled the witch's glass with red wine before handing it back. A cruel look crossed Bellatrix' face. Then she let the glass slip through her fingers. It crashed to the floor, spilling wine everywhere. Hermione's face flashed red with shame as many eyes were drawn to the commotion. Bellatrix coolly raised her eyebrows. Then she said, malice hidden under a layer of fake concern,

"Don't you want to get rid of that? Someone could hurt themselves."

Hermione bit the inner side of her cheek hard, fighting against a burning feeling in her eyes. Hastily, she pulled her red wand and waved it at the broken glass to vanish the mess. Unfortunately, a bit of the spilled wine was left behind.

_Damn you, useless wand!_  Hermione cursed inwardly as she snatched a table napkin and bent to her knees. While she wiped the rest of the wine away, Hermione knew Bellatrix' was smirking down at her spitefully.

"Oh,  _Tom_ , there you are," Bellatrix simpered gleefully.

Hermione drew in a trembling breath of air, dread knotting her stomach. This was the last person she wanted to see. Tom Riddle. Hermione felt her body starting to tremble helplessly and a hollow feeling wound around her, crushing her.

Her heart clenched in her chest but she still raise her head. Kneeling on the floor, Hermione looked up at Tom who stood directly in front of her. Bellatrix stood beside him and watched the scene with morbid interest. In contrast to her glee, Tom's handsome features were completely expressionless. Hermione stared into his starkly blue eyes and she couldn't breathe. Her hand clenched around the napkin, crumbling it.

She was scared. So scared. Of him.

_Tom._

He had destroyed her. Mercilessly, he had torn her apart and had left nothing but pain.

Hermione still stared at him, petrified. Tom looked incredibly handsome in his dark suit that emphasised his lithe form with serpentine grace. A few wavy locks of his black hair casually hung into his perfectly sculptured face. Cold as ice, his unfathomable eyes took in her kneeling form.

She had been so scared.

He had been the vengeful God of her new world.

It was as Hermione saw disdain fleeting through Tom's blue eyes, that her fear of him tilted. It collapsed into something new. It was the remorseless look on his face that sparked it off. A small flame infected Hermione. She had thought that seeing Tom after what he'd done to her would finally destroy her. Instead, that small flame rushed through her and under Tom's disdainful gaze it gained in size until it was a raging inferno, barely controllable. At that moment, if she'd had a wand, Hermione would have attacked Tom.

Never once breaking eye contact with him, she got up from the floor. How had she ever felt protected with him? Loved? Tom was empty, devoid of emotion and anything real. Now? Hermione only felt betrayed.

She was  _furious_.

"What, Mudblood?" Bellatrix voice snapped meanly. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Yes, Mistress Black," Hermione replied quietly, her hard gaze never wavering from Tom's. "I  _do_  have work to do."

With that she turned away from him, without the customary bow.

.

Feeling a bit unbalanced, Tom let Bellatrix drag him away from the refreshment table. Of course he could have stopped her but strangely he was relieved to be away from Hermione's presence. Her reaction to him was…  _unexpected_. Surprisingly belligerent. He didn't like it one bit. Tom felt his magic rage inside of him, furiously demanding to be set free. He had expected Hermione to finally know her place.

Bellatrix proceeded to pour words into Tom's ear, but he couldn't bring himself to listen. A nod now and then was all he offered. Tom noted with irritation that his eyes were still glued on Hermione. That look she had sent him, somehow he was still reeling from the shock. He had never seen her brown eyes so consumed by rage. Tom swallowed as he remembered that Hermione had not even looked at Bellatrix with the same amount of hate. She had reserved that look only for him. How dare she look at him like that?

†

As the ball stretched on, his anger completely consumed Tom. He would no longer accept Hermione's insolence. Not only would Tom reclaim her tonight. No, he also intended to once and for all teach the Mudblood her place. For his plans to unfold, he needed to be alone with her.

It was almost half past twelve as McGonagall finally broke up the party and shooed the last students to their respective common rooms. Tom didn't return to the Heads' chambers but hid in an empty classroom. He gave it another half an hour before he snuck back to the Great Hall.

Magic seething inside of him, he re-entered the hall. The music was turned off and the lights were on. The room was empty but for a few Mudbloods. They were busy cleaning up, mobbing the floor and re-arranging the four house tables. Quickly, Tom spotted Hermione among them. She pulled the garlands from the wall by hand. A swoop of anger hit Tom hard. Was she suddenly too stupid to use a wand?

Furiously, he stomped over to the girl. He had almost reached her as Hermione looked up from her work. Her plump lips thinned angrily as she recognized him and Tom was sent into another violent fit of temper. Slightly Hermione bowed her head and greeted glacially,

"Master."

Tom was surprised how she managed to make that word sound like the foulest of insults. Without answering, he harshly grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her with him. Some of the other Mudbloods stared at him, worry in their eyes, but they didn't try to stop him. Brutally, Tom pulled Hermione out of the Great Hall and didn't stop until he found privacy in one of Hogwarts' dark corridors.

Instantly, Tom rounded on the Mudblood and hissed, "What are you doing here, Hermione?"

Despite the unmistakable threat lacing his tone, the girl didn't shy away from him. Tom felt his temper rise a few notches.

"My job," was the brittle reply he got out of Hermione.

He took in a deep breath of air. It wouldn't do to just curse her. At least not yet. Voice tight with anger, Tom demanded to know,

"How did you manage to stay at Hogwarts?"

Hermione's eyes were sealed up and unreadable as she stared at him. Clearly displeased by his presence, she sneered,

"Why? Are you disappointed that the Snatchers didn't Crucio me to death?"

Tom's anger peaked as he felt a twinge of unease in his chest at this very possible scenario. He took a threatening step towards his rebellious Mudblood and snarled,

"I don't even care how you weaselled out of this. Don't think  _I'll_  let you get away so easily." He grabbed her arm and shook her. "From now on, you'll do exactly as I say."

Despite his sharp order, Hermione snorted deprecatingly, " _Do as you say?!_  After everything you did to me, you have some nerve to even dare  _speak_  to me."

Tom couldn't believe his ears. She still insisted on her disobedience? Temper pushed to the boiling point, he threatened, "You better shut up now or I swear you'll regret it."

The mutinous glint didn't leave Hermione's eyes. She still dared to talk back to him, "You can't tell me what to do."

"Really?" Tom mocked cruelly.

Then he brutally pulled at the bond that chained Hermione to him. In satisfaction he watched as the girl hissed in pain and grabbed her left forearm where her Dark Mark was fully visible on her skin.

"To me it seems like you still belong to me."

Angry brown eyes glared up at him. Tom was taken aback by the fire burning in them. He had expected something else. Maybe fear?  _…surrender?_  Hermione wasn't begging for his forgiveness, though. All he got was her anger. Baring her teeth, the Mudblood growled,

"I'm not yours, Tom."

She raised her arm, showing the stretch of skin that was darkened by ink. Hermione skimmed her fingers over the Dark Mark and told him coldly,

"This means nothing to me. A bond of magic that was forced on me a long time ago. It holds no importance to me anymore." Her brown eyes snapped from the tattoo to Tom. "Just. Like. You."

Those three words cut deep. They stirred something in Tom, heavy and painful. He didn't like that feeling at all. How was it possible that Hermione's words still held sway over him? Tom balled his hands into tight fists. He was  _not_  going to back down. She was at  _his_  mercy.

"As I see it," Tom said, cruel smirk twisting his lips. "your opinion doesn't matter at all."

To emphasise his declaration, he again activated the bond between them and wrenched harshly. Hermione winced in pain, but otherwise didn't react. It was frustrating how her brown eyes still bored into him full of defiance.

"If this is how you thought of us the entire time, I'm glad you ended it." Hermione bit out. "At least now I know where I stand with you."

Tom's magic gave an angry budge in face of her defiance. She should be grovelling at his feet, not still standing up to him. Driven by a mad desire to see her composure falter, Tom took an abrupt step towards Hermione. He brutally pushed her backwards until her back collided with the hard stone wall of the corridor. Then he grabbed her wrists and forced them against the stone, effectively trapping Hermione between the wall and his own body.

"Nothing is over between us," he whispered into her ear, menace sharpening his words. "You still belong to me. Don't forget that."

Brown eyes fiercely glared up at him. Hermione squirmed in Tom's tight grip without any hope of breaking free and finally inquired heatedly, "Is this what you wanted the entire time? Me helpless? Me powerless to challenge you? Do you like me better this way?"

Tom didn't want to hear it anymore. Her ramblings meant nothing. Harshly, he tightened his hold on her wrists. The Mudblood needed to finally accept his dominance. Hermione belonged to him and Tom would accept nothing but absolute submissiveness from her.

Driven by a vengeful fire, he bent down to her and forcefully crashed his mouth against her lips in a brutal, claiming kiss. He could hear Hermione gasp softly in protest, but her objection was quickly muffled by his mouth on hers. Hungrily, Tom consumed her, running his tongue over her lips. Had he missed this? Hermione squirmed under him, but he never loosened his hold on her. Instead he sucked on her fat lower lip and bit down, hard.

Hermione tasted good, still the same, even if she now tried to push him away.

As he bent up again, Tom was fascinated by the sight of her now swollen lips. That was what he needed, wasn't it? Control. Control over Hermione and her body. As Tom finally managed to rip his eyes from her mouth, he found an unreadable expression on Hermione's face, only her nose was crinkled in distaste as she stared up at him. Tom was angered by her lack of reaction and that decidedly wrong set of emotions she displayed towards him. He pressed himself menacingly against hers and clarified,

"Make no mistake, Hermione. You, your body, belong to me."

Hermione's face remained to be stony. No words left her and she just stared up at him with her chin jutted out in defiance. A wave of anger hit Tom. If she wanted to have it the hard way, so it would be. He would have Hermione, one way or the other, and he would make it abundantly clear that everything she could offer was his to take.

Angrily, Tom bunched her wrists together and forced them against the wall over her head. His other hand travelled over her body, skimming over her curves, until it greedily pulled up her skirt. Hermione could not stop him, because she was a powerless Mudblood, as Tom forced her legs apart and moved in-between.

He pressed himself against her smaller frame and moaned as his groin rubbed against her, giving him the friction he hadn't even noticed he needed so desperately. Tom buried his face against the crook of her neck, hungrily nipping at her soft skin, working his way up until he could press his mouth against hers again. Hot desire built up in him and with his anger it formed an unbearable mixture. He had missed Hermione's body.

Lust clouding his mind, Tom allowed his roaming hand to pull demandingly at her knickers while he forced his tongue past her lips and plunged into her mouth. Hermione felt so good under his fingers, tasted so wonderful and made his senses swirl with raw desire. Finally, Tom got a grip on the hem of her knickers and a soft groan left him. He just wanted to wrench the offending piece of cloth off her delicious body as suddenly Hermione bit down hard on his tongue in her mouth. Her sharp teeth quickly broke skin and the pain, combined with the coppery taste of his own blood, managed to pull Tom back from his lust hazed endeavours.

He flinched away from her, even let go of her wrists and took a step back. Tom blinked in confusion. He had been so carried away, he needed a second to evaluate the situation. There was a hot liquid running from the corner of his mouth.  _Blood_ , Tom realized. Anger rushed back to him and he raised a hand, wiping the blood away. His eyes smouldered furiously as he looked at Hermione.

The girl was still pressed against the wall and now looked up at him with wide eyes as if she'd never seen him before. Then her shock bled into something that Tom had to describe as disgust. Indignation was wrapped around Hermione's voice as she snapped,

"What do you think you're  _doing_?!"

Tom was furious. It was hard to pinpoint what angered him most but above all Hermione's rejection burned. The Mudblood belonged to Tom. How  _dare_  she bite him?! The disgust in her eyes told him that she hadn't even been tempted to return his kisses. He didn't want to examine what that meant, but allowed his anger to take over. Before Hermione could even think of running away, Tom again stepped into her personal space and grabbed her by her arms.

"Do you really think you could reject me?" he hissed at her, cruel inflection bending his tone.

Hermione's eyes had widened at his intrusion, but now narrowed into angry slits. As if to provoke him into action, she bared her teeth and snarled,

"I  _don't_  want you. I don't want you to touch me; I don't want you to talk to me. I don't want to ever see you again.  _I do not want you, Tom!_ "

Her words were meant to bite and they did, Tom had to grudgingly admit. His magic stormed around him furiously. The situation was slowly slipping from his control and he didn't appreciate that. Hermione glared up at him and tugged at the tight grip he still had on her arms.

"What do you plan to do now?" she growled furiously. "I don't want you anymore, so you just take it by force?"

Tom pressed his full body weight against her, cruelly pinning her against the corridor wall. His face was inches from hers. Scorn coated his tone as he hissed,

"You sound as if you  _wouldn't_  enjoy it."

At his cruel words, fear welled up in Hermione's pretty eyes. Tom felt at the same time triumphant and devastated. Despite her fear, though, Hermione didn't back down. Instead, she seemed to embrace the fear. She gazed back at him unwaveringly and her fear was accompanied by grim determination.

"I wouldn't," the girl stated, voice calm and controlled. "I would just despise you even more than I already do."

Tom pressed his mouth into a thin angry line. His hand tightened around her arms and he wrenched at her before he brutally slammed her against the wall. Hermione hissed in pain as the back of her head knocked into the stone wall, but gave no further reaction. Tom felt her warm body against his. She felt so delicate and small in his arms. Hermione didn't have a wand and no way to defend herself. Still, as she looked up at him her eyes were hard as steel.

"You  _are_  mine," Tom insisted threateningly.

His words, though, tasted hollow and empty on his tongue and Hermione remained to be unimpressed. He could feel her magic pushing against his own without any sign of surrender.

"Tom, I'm warning you," Hermione said firmly. "I know you don't want to hear it, but  _you're_  in the wrong here. And I'm done making excuses for your behaviour."

"I don't need your absolution," Tom sneered.

"Well, you don't have it either way," she clarified irately. "Maybe you never had anyone telling you this, so I'll do it now: What you're doing is  _wrong_. How you treat me is wrong. How you treat other people like mere pawns is wrong. And what you're planning with those Horcruxes is  _wrong_."

Hermione's eyes pierced into Tom and everything was slipping away. He suddenly felt the need to fidget under her unforgiving gaze. This infuriated him even more.

"It's not," he sneered and a wild smirk appeared on his face. "This is  _eternal life_ , Hermione. I deserve it."

"I pity everyone who deserves a fate like that."

Tom gritted his teeth but ignored her comment and sneered, "Are you really so blind to what I'm doing? My Horcruxes will be the greatest thing a wizard ever created."

"No," she said firmly. "They're a cancer eating you alive."

Tom opened his mouth to throw something in return, but was stopped abruptly as Hermione's magic collided with him. The force behind her attack made him release her and even stumble a step away.

"I don't even care anymore," she snarled at him, magic crackling around her. "You're screwed up, Tom. Your father was right all along. If you're so eager to sacrifice your soul, I don't care. Go ahead, destroy yourself."

She took a step towards Tom and he felt her powerful magic tugging at him, slicing over him. Hermione glared up at him and growled,

"But don't think I'll idly stand by as you kill innocent people."

Everything was slipping. But if Tom fell, he was going to pull her down with him. Rage burned hot inside him and infected his magic. Driven by the mad urge to retaliate, he reached for his wand.

.

Hermione's heart raced in her chest as she looked up at Tom and saw the anger distorting his handsome face. His already incensed magic was stifling in the air. Hermione banned all emotion from her face, hiding how terrified she truly was of the dark wizard. She could only watch as Tom pulled his wand. Hermione knew she couldn't defend herself against him. The red wand in her pocket was useless.

Despite the fear almost choking her, she stood tall. She was done running away from Tom and his wrath. Hermione balled her hands into fists, steeling herself for what was to come. Tom was  _disgusting_. What he'd done… Hermione still felt shaken and the forced kiss lingered on her lips, prickling and burning unpleasantly.

Fury raged in Tom's beautiful blue eyes as he glared at her and Hermione knew she couldn't yield to that fury. If she did, she would lose everything. Regulus had been wrong. Hermione couldn't just accept her fate. If she did, if she gave up, there would be nothing left for her. Tom was wrong as well. She would  _never_  crawl back to him. With gritted teeth, Hermione watched as he raised his wand at her.

Before Tom could throw a curse at her, though, an angry voice rang through the corridor, "Hey! Leave her alone!"

Hermione startled and turned her head. Her eyes widened as she spotted Ginny. Fierce look on her face, the redhead stomped over to them. She even had her wand in hand.

"Step away from her!" Ginny snarled furiously.

Tom visibly struggled to put on the mask of the charming Head Boy. His wand lay still in his hand and a disturbing sheen sharpened his eyes.

"Ms Weasley," he bit out. "This doesn't concern you. Kindly leave us alone."

Anger was painted all over Ginny's pretty face. "Like hell I'll leave Hermione alone with  _you_."

Hermione flinched as suddenly Ginny stepped closer to her and wrapped an arm around her. Quickly a soothing voice tried to calm her,

"It's okay, Hermione."

She stared at Ginny with wide eyes. Hermione's whole body was tense, but Ginny's closeness managed to comfort her. While the redhead held Hermione gingerly, the snarl on her face had only grown darker and she glared at Tom.

"What  _the fuck_  are you doing?!"

By now Tom had managed to compose himself. The calm façade was a frightening abomination.

"What I'm doing is none of your business," Tom said and there was something terrifying hidden in his smooth voice.

"It is," Ginny sniped. "when you attack my friend."

An unsavoury smirk twisted Tom's lips. Gesturing at Hermione, he sneered, "You're wasting your time defending something like _this_. It's just a Mudblood."

The cruelty of his words mercilessly cut into Hermione. She sucked in a sharp breath of air, tears springing to her eyes. Feeling her flinch under Tom's words, Ginny tightened her grip on Hermione.

"You've already taken everything from her," Ginny growled at him. "Is it so much fun harassing someone who can't fight back?"

The nasty sneer didn't drop from Tom's face and Ginny shook her head at him, repulsed.

"You should be fucking ashamed of yourself," she told him icily. "She was your  _girlfriend!_  Merlin's sake!"

Tom's emotionless eyes left Ginny. Slowly his gaze skimmed over Hermione until he locked eyes with her. The demeaning smirk still hung from his lips as he stated cruelly,

"She never was my girlfriend."

Hermione felt tears choking her but she stoically stared back at him, hiding her every emotion. Without waiting for any reply, Tom threw a last derogatory look at Ginny before he turned around and walked away. The redhead watched him, anger still twisting her face.

"What an asshole."

Hermione had lowered her gaze and stared down at the floor. Her eyes burned and she felt shaky on her feet. Ginny's warm arm was still wrapped around her and she was incredibly grateful for that.

"Thank you."

"Pff, you don't have to thank me for that," Ginny replied. "Riddle's a creep."

"Still," Hermione smiled at her friend. "thank you."

Ginny smiled back at her. Then a frown started to furrow her brow. Cautiously, she asked, "Riddle knew, didn't he?"

Hermione gulped nervously. "W- what do you mean?"

"He didn't  _just_  find out about you being Muggleborn," Ginny insisted, anger returning to her. "He knew all along."

Hermione fidgeted with a lock of her curly hair, but didn't dare look at Ginny. Surprisingly, the Pureblood didn't press her for a reply. Hermione breathed in deeply. She shouldn't tell Ginny anything. It was too dangerous. Still, somehow she felt the need to confide in someone.

"Tom…" Hermione stuttered and fearfully glanced at Ginny. "He's… he's my Master."

Ginny's eyes grew wide as she heard it. Next there was disgust crossing the redhead's pretty features. Hermione sniffed as she saw it and bowed her head. Was Ginny finally revolted by her? Despite Hermione's dark thoughts, Ginny stepped closer and again enveloped her in a tight hug.

"That bastard," the Gryffindor breathed, anger bending her tone. "So, was that all a façade? You being his girlfriend? Did he force you to do that?"

Hermione shrugged, feeling raw pain burning up in her.

"At first it  _was_  just a lie," she replied meekly. "Then he really was my boyfriend. At least, that's what I thought. Now I'm not so sure anymore…"

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks,**

**I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap,**

**I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black.'**

**\- Kurt Cobain (* 1967** **†** **1994)**


	32. No fear of life or death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, next chapter :D Took me a bit, but here we are. I hope you enjoy it. If you feel like it, let me know what you think. I love hearing your thoughts on the fic ^^  
> Big thank you to all of you who left a kudos! You rock, guys :D

It was only the third classroom and Hermione was already exhausted. Then again, she was exhausted all the time now. The hard work was getting to her. At least Dobby hadn't lied as he promised that, unlike Malfoy manor, Hogwarts always provided enough food for the servants.

_That's something_ , Hermione told herself as she continued cleaning the room. As she tried to reach under one of the tables, her elbow accidentally brushed against one of the shiny copper cauldrons. Hermione stiffened at the contact. Without her consent, her fingers skimmed over the cauldron's copper rim in a longing gesture.

With force, she ripped herself away and continued to clean. Only her thoughts insisted to swirl around the coppery cauldron. Hermione took in a shaky breath of air. It was like a hazy dream. Had she really sat at one of those workstations, listening to Slughorn's lectures, eager to brew a potion in one of the copper cauldrons?

Wetness pooling in her eyes, Hermione stuffed the trash into a garbage bag and left it by the door to collect it later. Angrily she wiped the tears away and grabbed a rag to give the tables a swipe. Why did she have to do this? A bout of anger hit Hermione and she wished she could make Tom pay. Furiously, she scrubbed at a persistent stain on the table's wood.

"Hermione?"

A voice echoed through the empty potions classroom. Hermione whirled around, heart racing in her chest. A fire had appeared in the fireplace and Hermione's eyes widened as she saw a head floating in the flames. He was a bit hazy and distorted as if she saw him from behind milk glass, but Hermione still recognized him.

"Sirius?"

"The one and only," Sirius Black drawled, grinning smugly.

Hermione sank to her knees in front of the fireplace. Keeping her voice down, she breathed, "I'm so glad to see you."

The smile on Sirius's face widened. "Aren't I the popular one?"

The amusement quickly left his face as his gaze skimmed over Hermione's appearance. He took in her tattered dress and the uncovered tattoo on her arm and an uncharacteristically grim expression touched his handsome features.

"So, it's true, is it?"

Hermione blushed in embarrassment and pressed her left arm against her chest, subconsciously trying to hide her Dark Mark. Without looking at Sirius, she nodded.

"Hermione?" Sirius softly called her.

Only reluctantly did she look up at him. A kind smile played around Sirius' lips as he gingerly asked, "How are you? Did they hurt you?"

Hermione gnawed at her lower lip and shook her head. "No… not yet."

"Okay," Sirius sighed in relief. "That's good."

Hermione peered at his head floating in the flames and swallowed nervously. Then she blurted, "I- I'm sorry."

Sirius' eyes widened at her apology and he stared at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I- I-" Hermione stuttered, feeling pathetic. "I ruined everything. Your plan… Now that my cover is blown, I'm of no use to the Order anymore."

She knew it was true. Tom had thrown her away without hesitation. Why would Sirius Black be any different? Hermione drew in a breath, trying to fight the tight feeling in her throat.

"Nonsense," came Sirius' firm reply.

Hermione's head shot up and she stared at him in surprise. The Order's leader grinned, showing his white teeth.

"Don't be ridiculous."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "But… didn't you want me to be… you know… a Hogwarts student  _and_  a Mudblood. To prove to them that we  _can_  do magic." She blinked to get rid of the extra moisture in her eyes. "I failed. They say I cheated in class…"

Sirius just shrugged, mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry. I'll just have to change my plans. No biggie."

_Change the plan?_  Did that mean she hadn't completely blown her chance with the Order? Hope timidly fluttered up in Hermione and, still kneeling in front of the fireplace, Hermione bowed her head.

"What do you need me to do?" she inquired duteously.

As Sirius didn't reply, Hermione carefully chanced a glance at him. The man scanned her, pensive sheen in his grey eyes. She nervously kneaded her hands in her lap. What if Sirius didn't have a use for her anymore? What would she do then?

"Hermione, listen to me," Sirius finally said, all traces of jest having left his deep voice. "You don't  _need_  to do anything. Neither for me, nor Lupin, the Order or anyone else. You hear me? It's me. I'm here to help  _you_. Not the other way around. Okay?"

Hermione knitted her brow. "I don't understand…"

Sirius sent her an encouraging smile and explained gingerly, "You're in trouble. That's what I'm here for. That's why I started this whole Order business." He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his shiny black hair. "This whole world is fucked up, Hermione. Really and truly fucked up. I don't know how the hell we could go so wrong. But it's not okay. It just isn't. What's happening to you is a crime."

Hermione stared at him.  _A crime?_  "But the Ministry-"

Sirius cut over her, "It doesn't matter what Umbridge says. Or the Minister for Magic himself, for that matter. You  _gotta_ understand this. It's really important." He locked eyes with her and chose his next words very carefully, "What this country, what _we_ , do to Muggleborns is a crime."

Hermione blinked in surprise. Tentatively, she examined this new idea. Her life as a Mudblood had never been easy, but this was the law, wasn't it? It was written down, ironclad. As a Mudblood she had no rights. No crime could be committed against her. Hermione's expression twisted into a frown. That made Tom's actions against her … _okay?_  She recoiled from the thought.  _No!_ Angrily, Hermione shook her head.

Sirius gazed at her steadily as he continued, "Maybe we can blame Grindelwald for this situation, but I think that's a cheap way out. You've been deeply wronged, Hermione. That's why you don't need to do anything for me. I'm here for you and I offer you my help. You only have to accept it."

"I…"

Hermione didn't really know what to do. Sirius' ideas were outlandish. Yet, they sounded so right.  _Too right…_  Hermione swallowed nervously. Sirius still watched her attentively. Could she trust him? She had trusted Tom, but he was a liar. Hermione's hands shook with fear but something desperate, something mad, drove her to reach for the Order's offer.

"I'm lost," she timidly confessed. "I- I need help."

The leader of the Order heard it and a relieved expression touched his features. He looked as he'd just passed some kind of test. "Don't worry. You're not lost. Just temporarily stuck. Nothing more. We'll get you out."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"De nada," replied Sirius, once again smiling boyishly. "It'll be my pleasure."

She returned the grin, already feeling better. "You know, your brother wants to help me too."

"Regulus?" Sirius seemed surprised. "Really? What's his plan?"

Hermione pursed her lips as she pondered Regulus' offer. She wasn't sure how to feel about it, so she confided in Sirius, "He wants to buy me."

"I see," Sirius mused. "He wants to buy you…"

He seemed to mull it over. Hermione watched the Order's leader as he was carried away by his thoughts. After a moment, his grey eyes refocused on her. The smile on his face looked a bit forced now, almost apologetic, as he said,

"My brother is a good person. For having grown up in that house, he's actually a saint. Regulus has a good heart.  _Really_. …I didn't know you two were friends."

"He's nice," Hermione supplied and joked weakly, "for a Slytherin."

The grave expression on Sirius' face was interrupted by a grin. He winked at her. "Still a snake, though."

Hermione laughed softly, but Sirius' smile was washed away by a solemn expression and he said, "I'm sorry for what Regulus did."

Hermione blinked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Sirius sighed then he clarified firmly, "Despite what my brother may think, you  _can't_  be bought. You can be rescued, you can break free, you can escape your kidnappers. But you  _cannot_  be bought, Hermione."

Hermione stared at him, momentarily struck mute. Regulus' offer had rubbed her the wrong way since he'd voiced it. Hermione looked down at her hands, lying in her lap, and curled them into fists. Sirius was right. Even with Regulus instead of Tom or even Draco, she would still die.

"By the way," Sirius interrupted her thoughts. "Did you hear about Lupin?"

Hermione's attention snapped to him and she nodded gravely. "He was denounced."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I  _told_  the idiot it was only a matter of time. But would he listen?" A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. "If I ever catch who blabbed, though, they're gonna be sorry."

"Do you know who it was?"

"No. Not really." Sirius pursed his lips. "But I wouldn't be surprised if my illustrious family had something to do with it. They never liked Lupin.  _Shocking_ , I know. Dear Cassiopeia could have… She's got connections into the Department of Bloodlines..."

Sirius rubbed his chin in contemplation and glanced at Hermione. "Anyway, the problem is that with all this shit going down, Dippet freaked. It was actually kind of a hassle to open this firecall. Hogwarts is more or less locked down."

Hermione worried her lip. She hadn't known that. Sirius threw her a smile and soothed, "It's not all bad. Dippet restricting the communication channels is actually good. It helps keeping your story on the low. Bad news is that the castle's disconnected from the Floo network. That's bye-bye to the easy route of getting you out." He scratched his head. Seeing Hermione's alarmed look, he quickly added, "Don't worry. We'll get you out. It might take a few days, but Lupin's gonna get you."

"Lupin?!" Hermione's eyes widened in concern. "Snatchers are searching for him. He can't leave Werewolf territory. What if they catch him?"

"They won't," was Sirius' confident reply. At Hermione's doubtful look he provided, "Don't worry about Lupin. He's really good at what he does."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep." Sirius grinned widely and teased, "You should count yourself lucky that it's Lupin. Old Greyback volunteered as well."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom flopped down in one of the armchairs in the Slytherin common room, feeling frustrated. The room was deserted which suited him just fine. He had wasted an hour talking with his head of house. Just to find out that Slughorn knew nothing about the Founders' objects.

Tom sighed in frustration and let his head roll back against the chair's backrest. Slughorn was useless and Hufflepuff's and Gryffindor's objects remained to be elusive. Thus far, Tom had only managed to secure Ravenclaw's Diadem while Slytherin's Locket was gone forever. His magic spiked in anger. The object created by the most powerful of the Founders was lost to him, destroyed by a dirty Mudblood. Irately, Tom's magic lashed out and a stray book lying on the side table burst into flames. His jaw clenched as his thoughts danced around Hermione. Tom hadn't seen her since the ball a few days ago and frankly had no patience to deal with his ill-behaved Mudblood at the moment.

The door of the common room slit open and Tom's eyes narrowed in annoyance. He watched as Bellatrix and Regulus Black entered. The witch seemed to be in no better mood than Tom himself.

"You're not going to do that!" Bellatrix snarled acridly.

Regulus stubbornly crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You can't stop me, Bella."

"Oh, I can," the witch hissed darkly. "You're  _not_  going to buy the Mudblood."

Tom rolled his eyes at their bickering. The pair hadn't yet noticed his presence, so he pulled his wand, intending to send a curse their way.

"Hermione doesn't deserve this," Black replied caustically.

At the name, Tom's interest was instantly piqued. Instead of cursing the pair, he cast a notice-me-not over himself.

"You know what that worthless piece of scum did." Bellatrix glared murderously at her cousin. "You can't bring something like that into the noble House of Black."

Tom stared at the pair, thoughts racing. What were they talking about?!

"It's my money," Black yelled heatedly. "What I do with it is none of your business. And I'm going to help Hermione!"

The anger slid from Bellatrix' face, replaced by a destructive smile. Her voice was soft and gentle as she promised, "If you do this, I will curse you."

Black swallowed nervously, but still didn't back down and stated firmly, "I don't care what you say. I'm gonna talk with Dippet and I'm going to buy Hermione."

It were the last words that made Tom suck in a sharp breath of air. Suddenly, his magic was twitching and twisting inside of him, almost spilling out. Tom's fingers tightened painfully around his wand and his whole body trembled.

"I'll get Hermione away from here," Black continued, oblivious to Tom's lost temper. "She'll be safe. Away from Hogwarts… and away from Riddle."

Tom raised his wand at Black and he knew it was the Killing Curse that teetered at its tip. Something pulled at his thoughts, tilting them into darkness.

"Shut up!" Bellatrix screeched, ripping Tom out of his trance. "She's  _Riddle's_! Stay out of this."

Tom shook his head, angry at his lost control. He  _couldn't_  use the Killing Curse in Hogwarts. What was he thinking? He watched as Bellatrix stomped out of the common room while Black disappeared towards the dorms. Tom was left behind in silence and finally his magic spilled from his control. The upholstery of the chair around him turned black with heat, smoking dangerously. Deep scratches appeared in the wood of a nearby table and even in the flagstones of the floor. Tom barely noticed.

Was this Hermione's plan? Running away from him? Eloping with  _Regulus Black_?

Tom sneered. This was as ridiculous as it was disgusting. He hadn't thought Hermione would sink so low. Black was an opportunistic weakling. Did she really think a feeble wizard like Black would ever be able to protect her?

†

Hermione rubbed her blurry eyes as she hastened down a dark corridor. It had to be almost midnight. Some students had used an abandoned classroom for a drinking spree. Hermione dearly wished they'd got a detention for it, because she'd been the one to clean up the mess from the illegal party.

_I'm going to get out of here_ , she chanted her new mantra as she stumbled towards one of the hidden entries to the servants' passageways. A small smile curved her lips. Since her talk with Sirius, Hermione wasn't feeling quite so hopeless anymore.

"Are my eyes deceiving me? Is that really Ms  _Rookwood_?"

Hermione grimaced as she recognized the voice. Reluctantly, she looked up and almost groaned as she spotted Bellatrix Black. Smiling a dangerous smile, the witch sauntered towards Hermione.

"Itty bitty muggle waif," Bellatrix said in a sing-song voice. " _Just_ the Mudblood I've been searching for."

Hermione was not in the mood to deal with Bellatrix' brand of crazy. Almost on its own volition, her mouth opened and snapped, "Leave me alone."

"Ooh," Bellatrix jeered. "Touchy."

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line. Bellatrix smirked and wondered in fake confusion, "You know, I always thought little Mudbloods were supposed to bow."

Hermione's hands balled into angry fists as she fought the urge to throw an insult at the witch. In the end, though, she held back. Hermione wanted to get out of this as fast as possible, so she inclined her head in a brief bow. Then she turned away, intending to finally return to the kitchens.

Without warning, an elbow was rammed into her side and a foot kicked the back of her knee. Hermione yelped in pain, lost her balance and tumbled down. Soon, she was lying on the floor with Bellatrix sitting on her stomach, pinning her arms down. Hermione stared at the other girl, heart hammering away in her chest.

"Her-my-own-ee" the witch sang, mad glint in her eyes. "What a beautiful name. Did you come up with it on your own? Or was it Tom?"

Anger managed to drive away her shock and Hermione snapped, "It's my actual name."

She squirmed in Bellatrix grasp, trying to throw her off. It didn't work and Hermione coughed painfully as Bellatrix leaned closer, pressing a knee into Hermione's stomach.

"You're feisty," Bellatrix observed amusedly. "I think I like it."

Sharp smirk splitting her face, the witch pulled her wand. A pang of fear hit Hermione as she saw how the air around the wand's tip flickered with heat. A satisfied glint appeared in Bellatrix' eyes and she swirled her wand playfully through the air.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" the witch asked contently.

"N- no," Hermione wheezed, glaring hatefully. "You're a sadist and enjoy it?"

"That too." A delightful smile curved Bellatrix' full lips. "But I also have no choice. Don't you see?"

She lowered her wand to Hermione's arm and pressed the still smouldering tip into vulnerable skin. Sharp pain erupted in Hermione's forearm as she was cruelly burned.

"You're too beautiful," Bellatrix told her merrily. "I warned you. Didn't I? You're too bright. You burn us. I warned you."

She removed the wand and Hermione stared at her, her arm stinging horribly. The witch smiled brightly, a sharp contrast to the tight grip she still had on Hermione.

"I gave you fair warning. Don't forget. Tom didn't."

Bellatrix cackled and again pressed the tip of her wand into Hermione's arm, burning skin and flesh underneath. Hermione flinched in pain. A mournful look pulled at Bellatrix' features and she retracted her wand. All traces of twisted mirth wiped away, she asked sadly,

"Did you burn him?"

Hermione gritted her teeth at the sharp pain in her arm. "What're you  _talking_  about?"

As a reply, Bellatrix again pressed her wand into Hermione's arm. It hurt and Hermione felt queasy as the smell of burned skin hit her nostrils. Bellatrix just cackled and declared proudly,

"He's really powerful. Tom. He is twisted and warped and so so powerful." She raised her eyebrows at Hermione. "But you don't know him. You don't."

Again the wand's tip bored into Hermione's skin and this time she couldn't help but gasp in pain. Bellatrix was completely undisturbed by Hermione's pain and continued calmly as if they were talking over tea,

"He's still searching. Tom's not fragile. Never that. No. No, you definitely shouldn't have burned him."

Hermione bit her tongue against the building pain in her arm. "Tom's not searching for anything. You know what he really is, don't you? Crazy. Just like you."

Bellatrix blinked down at her and a contemplative look crossed her face. After a moment, she admitted easily, "That may be. But craziness is always a majority vote, isn't it?"

Again, Hermione was burned. Then wavy dark hair fell over her face as Bellatrix leaned down to whisper,

"Can I tell you a secret?"

The witch bent up again and a wild smile distorted her face. Contently, she purred, "I knew. I knew all along.  _His_  magic was all over you that time at Malfoy manor when I took the wand from you. And then the first time you came to Hogwarts, it was the same. Tom's magic. And I  _knew_  it was you again. The little Mudblood." Bellatrix eyes lit up and she declared happily. "I thought we were playing, Tom and I, and I didn't say anything."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. Bellatrix had known?! Still smiling, the witch again burned her, obviously enjoying herself. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as pain flashed through her.

"I like playing with Riddle. We have rules." Bellatrix furrowed her brow at Hermione and accused, "You don't."

The witch shifted her weight a bit to be able to burn the yet untouched skin at Hermione's wrist. The movement granted Hermione a bit more room. Driven by pain and fear, she reacted instinctively and brought up her knee. Bellatrix groaned as she was hit in the stomach. Hermione pushed her away and quickly scrambled to her feet. Angry snarl twisting her face, Bellatrix snapped her wand through the air. Hermione had to duck as a dangerous curse dashed towards her. It missed and violently crashed into the corridor wall. Not waiting for more, Hermione ran away.

Angry footsteps followed her and another dangerous curse detonated with the corridor wall just inches from Hermione's head. Adrenalin cursing through her body, she ripped open the next best door and rushed into the room behind. It was a bathroom. Frantically, Hermione tried to somehow block the door. It was too late, though, and Bellatrix already blasted it open. A frightening smirk curved her lips as she hissed,

"I'm going to enjoy this."

Hermione stumbled away from the witch until her back was pressed into the tiled wall. Panic twisted around her. There was no escape route left and Bellatrix' magic already ripped at her. Hermione flinched as suddenly one of the toilet stall doors was slammed open with a loud bang. She blinked in surprise as the ghost of Neville Longbottom floated from the door. Fury twisting his face, he glared at Bellatrix and growled,

"I don't think so."

Bellatrix had removed her wand from Hermione and now poised it at Neville. Harshly, she scorned, "What can  _you_  do about it, dead boy?"

Neville smiled at her menacingly and hissed, "Plenty."

Before Bellatrix could reply, another voice butted in, "And I'll help him."

Now Bellatrix' eyes grew wide and fear touched her features. The Bloody Baron had just floated through the wall. The silvery blood drenching his clothes gave him a savage appearance. An evil smirk hovered around his lips as the Baron cocked an eyebrow at Bellatrix.

"You better run, girl," he advised and already pulled a sharp dagger from his belt.

Now it was Bellatrix that stumbled away, trepidation on her face. The Baron floated closer, raising the dagger threateningly, and Bellatrix turned on her heels. She dashed from the bathroom and down the corridor. Waving his dagger menacingly, the Baron gave chase, cackling insanely. Still pressed into the tiled wall, Hermione stupidly stared at his disappearing form.

"Are you hurt?" Neville's voice inquired softly.

Hermione was ripped from her stupor. Glancing at the ghost, she stuttered, "No… y- yes."

Now that the threat was gone, the pain from her burnt arm hit her full force. Feeling a bit light-headed, Hermione slid down the wall and sat on the bathroom floor. Painfully, she pressed her hurt arm against her chest. A wave of cold washed over her and she looked up. A shaky smile appeared on Hermione's face as she saw Neville floating right in front of her.

"I'm sorry," the ghost said sadly and looked at her arm. "Let me see."

Hermione turned her arm. Neville winced in sympathy as he saw the many burns on her skin.

"Here," he whispered gently. "I'll try something."

He extended a hand and wrapped his pale fingers around her forearm. Hermione flinched at the cold sensation, but quickly sighed in relief as Neville's ghostly hand cooled her burns.

"Thanks."

A lopsided smirk appeared on Neville's face and he joked, "Well, who knew. At last, coldness of death comes in handy."

Hermione chuckled softly. "It really feels better."

Neville threw her a smile. He was just carefully readjusting his grip on her arm as the Bloody Baron floated back into the bathroom, still laughing loudly.

"Chased the girl all the way to the Great Hall," he proclaimed. "If only Minerva hadn't stopped me. Tsk, a shame."

Hermione smiled up at him. "Thank you."

The Baron bowed deeply and exclaimed, "It certainly was my pleasure. The Black girl's shrieks were worth the effort."

He again laughed boomingly and Hermione and Neville had to smile as well. Cautiously, Hermione tried to get up, but hissed in pain as her arm throbbed in protest.

"You should rest for a while, my Lady," the Baron advised her.

Hermione nodded and sagged against the wall. Neville had helped, but her arm still burned sharply. Shakily, she inspected it. The skin had blackened at places, giving way to the flesh underneath. The wounds didn't bleed, but they stung incredibly. Hermione averted her gaze and let her head fall against the wall. Her eyes wandered to Neville who still hovered in the air right beside her.

"Neville?" she asked into the silence.

"Hm?" The ghost blinked at her.

"Would you…" Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "If you could, would you want to know how you died?"

The Hufflepuff furrowed his brow. "Why do you ask?"

Hermione worried her lip nervously. "Because I… I know."

For a moment, the room was drowned in silence. Neville stared at Hermione, eyes wide. They were clouded by fear, but in the end he said firmly,

"Tell me."

"It wasn't Luna's fault," Hermione voiced hesitantly. "It was Tom Riddle. He killed you."

Neville didn't immediately reply. Unseeingly, he stared at Hermione. Then he asked softly, "Was it an accident?"

Hermione breathed in deeply before she had to say, "No."

The ghost nodded numbly. "I'm glad you told me, Hermione. Thank you." Neville floated towards the other side of the room. "I think I want to be alone now."

Hermione smiled at him softly, nodding her understanding. Neville turned around and slid through the wall, leaving Hermione alone with the Baron.

"That was a good thing you just did," the ghost said sombrely.

Hermione peered up at the intimidating ghost. There was an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face.

"Everybody deserves to know," the ghost stated. "especially while stuck in purgatory."

Hermione nodded sadly. The Baron scanned her before he remarked, warm lilt thawing his tone, "It seems you are stuck in your own purgatory, my Lady."

She laughed mirthlessly, "You might say that."

"Unfortunately, for us ghosts there is no escape." The Baron eyed Hermione pensively. "But you… You are not stuck forever. You are alive, are you not?"

"Sometimes it  _feels_  like I'm dead."

The ghost shook his head at her and rebuked gingerly, "Your situation might be dire, but you should not abandon hope."

Hermione peered at him and her thoughts wandered to Sirius. A small smile curled her lips. "You're right. I'm getting out of this."

"That's the spirit." The Baron smirked at her.

Hermione hissed in pain as she gingerly moved her injured arm. Maybe she could ask Dobby for a disinfectant later.

"I  _am_  going to get out," she repeated, more talking to herself than the Baron. "I just hate leaving the Founders' objects behind. Maybe I can at least find the Cup before I go…"

" _Hufflepuff's_  Cup?" The Baron's deep voice inquired. "Why would you want to find that old trinket?"

Hermione looked up at the ghost. "Tom Riddle tries to find the Founders' objects."

Dryly, the Baron commented, "I suppose that boy has a dastardly scheme spurring his quest?"

"Of course," Hermione sighed tiredly. "But he's still missing Hufflepuff's Cup and Gryffindor's object."

"I see," the Baron said quietly. Then he floated a bit closer to her and whispered, "I never got along with Godric, but you are in luck, my Lady, because Helga Hufflepuff was a very dear friend of mine."

Hermione's head shot up at him. The Baron grinned at her hopeful expression and said, "Helga told me everything about her precious Cup."

"You know where it is?" Hermione blurted.

The Baron nodded, grinning with self-satisfaction. "Indeed, I do."

"Where?"

"You only have to go down to the kitchens." At Hermione's eager nod continued, "On the wall by the big fireplace you can see the crest of Hufflepuff. The Cup is hidden behind that crest. As far as I know, it is protected by a concealment charm, but it is not overly strong. Helga actually wanted her Cup to be found." The Baron laughed loudly. "She always said, 'What's the point of a magical cup when no-one's using it?'"

He glanced down at Hermione, seemingly remembering. "Nevertheless, you still need a wand."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom didn't confront Hermione until a day after overhearing that conversation between Bellatrix and Black. He wasn't sure why he hesitated. Then again, he also wasn't sure why he even  _cared_. Still, he was not going to let Regulus Black, of all people, steal his property.

It was long after curfew as Tom decided to seek Hermione out. It wasn't that hard to find her. He only had to follow the bond that chained her to him. Eventually, he found her on the fourth floor. Carpet beater in hand, Hermione was busy cleaning a tapestry. Dust was everywhere and the girl coughed as she continued to beat the large tapestry with difficulty.

"Hermione," Tom hissed, voice cold and sharp.

The Mudblood stiffened, before she turned around. Her brow was knitted and she was obviously not pleased to see him. Tom glared at her angrily. He just wanted to snap at her as his gaze was drawn to her arm. As usual, Hermione wore short sleeves and Tom's eyes widened as he stared at her right arm. Hermione's soft skin had brutally been ripped open. Only half-healed, her arm looked like she had been burned with a cigarette over and over. It had left her skin scarred and sore.

The worry mounting up in him made Tom feel tainted. With difficulty, he stopped himself from demanding to know who had done this to her. In exasperation, he admitted that he felt the need to check Hermione over to see if she was okay. He wondered if she had access to medical help. He doubted it.

Instead of voicing his concern, Tom grabbed the Mudblood by the arm and pulled her to the next best room. He avoided touching the injuries on her forearm, but Hermione still flinched painfully as he grasped her. Immediately, guilt overwhelmed Tom. This in return made his anger flare. Ungently, he pushed Hermione into the room and closed the door behind them.

"We need to talk," he told her, voice harsher than intended.

Hermione, though, wasn't intimidated by his brusque treatment of her. Instead she glared at him and snapped belligerently, "What is it now? Do you want to molest me again?"

Tom sneered at her. "I never molested you."

Hermione ripped her arm out of his grasp and took a step away from him. The distrustful look on her face told him exactly what she thought of his last statement. The girl watched him in suspicion and Tom rolled his eyes at her.

"You're making a fool of yourself," he scorned her, annoyed by her confrontational antics.

Tom took a step towards Hermione, deliberately crowding her against a table. He found sadistic joy in the way the belligerent air around her drained away. She even nervously looked around, checking for a way to escape him. Of course there was none and with huge eyes Hermione looked up at him. Tom smirked and smoothly bent down to her. He enjoyed how the Mudblood tried and failed to hide a flinch at his close proximity.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Tom murmured into her ear. "I can use you however  _the fuck_  I want."

The threat woven into his silky words was not lost on Hermione. Her whole body stiffened and she didn't reply anything. Tom straightened up again and eyed the girl with a twisted sense of smugness. Hermione stared up at him, obviously unable to reply anything. Tom was well aware that his presence was ill-received, but he didn't care. He enjoyed the influence he had on her. Hermione was  _not_  getting away from him, certainly not together with  _Black_.

Eagerly, Tom drank in the trepidation he had painted on her face. Before he could do anything else, though, Hermione took in a deep breath of air, as if steeling herself for something. A blank look slid over her face. Unreadable, it obscured her every emotion.

"And what," Hermione said, her voice distanced. "can this Mudblood do for her precious Master?"

_Is she mocking me?_  Tom's eyes narrowed as he felt his temper peak dangerously. She was playing a dangerous game.

"An apology would be a start," he hissed aggressively.

Hermione arched her eyebrows. "For what?"

Tom gritted his teeth, magic raging inside of him. "For going behind my back. For trying to sabotage my plans." He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him as he whispered menacingly, "You destroyed one of the most important magical artefacts in history, Mudblood."

Tom couldn't believe his ears as Hermione now had the audacity to laugh at him. Dark magic howling furiously, he couldn't help it as his hand wandered to her throat, fingers flexing around her neck.

"I'm sorry," came Hermione's robotic reply.

Once again it was delivered in a completely emotionless voice, lacking all warmth, and meant nothing. Tom's fingers tightened around her neck threateningly. She seemed to be unimpressed and prodded,

"Are you not going to apologize in return?"

"For what should I apologize, Mudblood?" he fumed at her.

Tom watched as a smile curled the corners of Hermione's mouth. It was an empty gesture, fake and inconsequential.

"For killing me."

Tom abruptly released her from his grip as if he had been burned. He even took a step away from her. For a second, he stared at her in disbelief and his heart was racing in his chest. Forcing composure, Tom snapped indignantly,

"What're you talking about? I didn't  _kill_  you."

The wry smile still sat on Hermione's face. Her voice was heavy and threatened to carry Tom away as she whispered, "You did. You really did."

He sneered at her even though he could feel something oddly twitch and shudder in his chest.

"You got away, didn't you?" he insisted. " _I didn't kill you._ "

Again, Hermione chuckled mirthlessly. "I got away. How lucky."

"You  _are_  lucky," Tom confirmed darkly. "You'd have deserved a much worse punishment than you got. Wouldn't you agree, _Penny_?"

Her fake name left a bitter taste in his mouth, but Tom ignored it and instead cruelly smirked at the Mudblood. Hermione remained to be unmoved as she heard the name the Malfoys had once forced on her. She didn't even want to deign him with an answer. Anger boiling hot, Tom demanded to know,

"What are you planning with Regulus Black?"

If she was surprised be the accusation, Hermione didn't show it. Her face remained to be eerily unreadable and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm not planning anything."

The lie made Tom bristle with anger. His fingers twitched, eager to pull his wand and curse her. Sharply, he accused, "You want him to buy you from Dippet. You want him to  _save_  you."

Hermione ignored his harsh scorn and observed clinically, "I'm a Mudblood. I thought we'd just determined that I'm not allowed to want anything."

Tom felt the urge to scream in an explosive mixture of frustration and fury. Maybe he should really curse her. A Cruciatus would surely loosen her tongue. The stupid Mudblood still watched him, almost expectantly. Did she  _want_  him to curse her? Why did she continue to provoke him?

Hermione, though, didn't seem to care either way. Ignoring Tom's lost temper, she delicately formed her next words, "What we had… I thought it was something special."

Her brown eyes wandered over Tom contemplatively, wistfully even. A brittle smile graced her lips. It was a mere shadow of the happy smiles she had once thrown at him. Tom stiffened as Hermione took a step closer to him. She raised a hand and slowly skimmed her fingers over his cheek.

"Do you even know how much you meant to me?" Hermione asked, voice soft but for a steely undercurrent.

Tom noted the past tense and it bothered him. He didn't know why, but it did. Her hand left him and sank down to her side. The next word fell from her lips as if she had grown tired of it,

"Everything."

Hermione sighed deeply and regarded him as if he were a big disappointment. He glared at her darkly, but she simply ignored his anger and said softly,

"I was happy. Were you not happy at all?"

Her eyes blinked up at him and there was earnest curiosity in them. Tom's magic swirled around him in agitation. He didn't even try to hide the cruel edge in his voice as he insisted,

"I don't care about your happiness. I never did."

.

Hermione looked at Tom, his eyes two endless pools of blue. She remembered how easily she had gone lost in them. Now they held a strange sheen. She didn't know what it meant and frankly she was too tired to wonder anymore. Unblinkingly, she met his hard gaze.

"No, you don't care," Hermione agreed colourlessly. "What is it you want, then?"

"I know you're living under the delusion that you could antagonise me," Tom replied, sinister tint to his words. "But you  _can't_. I want you to stay away from the Founders' objects and from _Black_."

Hermione cocked her eyebrows at the sharp command. "And what if I don't?"

A vicious look crossed Tom's face and she wasn't terribly surprised as he pulled his pale wand. Hermione didn't shy away, but merely commented in a level voice,

"I won't just disappear again, you know."

Abruptly Tom took a step towards her. An arm was wrapped around her shoulders and Hermione was pulled against his chest. It was almost a loving gesture, gentle and familiar. But Hermione could feel the tip of his wand cruelly boring into her ribs.

"You  _will_  obey me," Tom's voice was uncaring and icy cold. "or, this time, I'll really kill you, Hermione."

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Tom's pleasant scent surrounded her. Even now, it served to calm her. It was ironic.

"I know," she whispered, feeling oddly forlorn.

Tom's arm around her tightened and pulled her body closer against him. It was a cruel travesty of affection. Hermione shuddered in his embrace. Her fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him. If only she hadn't still felt his wand painfully boring into her side, she might have lied to herself and called this comfortable.

"I won't obey you anymore, Tom," Hermione told him firmly. "It's over. There's nothing left to say."

She waited for Tom to react but he didn't do anything. For a moment they just stood there, Hermione still leaning into Tom. There was no space in between. She could feel the heat of his body seeping into hers. For an outsider it must have looked like a lovers' embrace.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

Finally, Tom took a swift step away from her. His wand had sunk to his side and his starkly blue eyes stared at her. His face was a blank, every emotion hidden away. Hermione just gazed back at him wordlessly. She was prepared for anything, a harsh comment, a slap, a curse. But as Tom just turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone, she was slightly surprised.

Long since he had turned around the next corner, Hermione still stared at the spot he had disappeared from. She didn't know what to feel. She should feel angry – furious at what he had done; what he had destroyed – but there also was sadness wrapping around Hermione, grief and loss. It always hurt to say good-bye. She really had enjoyed Tom's company, craved it even.

But he didn't understand. Didn't want to.

Hermione shook her head. Tom had stolen something from her and now the empty spot hurt. Wasn't it only fair she took something from Tom in return? The Cup wasn't his anyway.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **The water sings along our keel,**

**The wind falls to a whispering breath;**

**I look into your eyes and feel**

**No fear of life or death;**

**So near is love, so far away**

**The losing strife of yesterday.'**

**\- Sophie Jewett (*1861** **†** **1909)**


	33. The Lady of the Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And another chapter finished. I think I'm gonna edit this one at some point later, but I'm too tired right now to go over it again. Good news is that I already wrote a whole lot for the next chapter. So I probably won't disappear for a few months again :D that's something.
> 
> But anyway, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think ^^ Big thank you for all the kudos and special thanks to garbleturkey, TheRyu and Shamelessly_Radiant for commenting on last chapter :)

Hermione hastened through the maze of servants' tunnels down into the bowels of Hogwarts' castle. Apparently, Slughorn had asked for her to sort and clean up the storage for the potions ingredients. Hermione wasn't really looking forward to the task. She didn't mind the actual work, but she didn't really want to talk with her former professor. Not now that she was nothing but a servant.

Hermione dragged her feet as she neared the storage room. Reluctantly, she knocked at the door. Hopefully, Slughorn would have mercy on her and let her work in peace. Hermione sighed tiredly as she entered the storage room. Head bent in the customary bow, she greeted,

"Master Slughorn. You asked for me."

Unfortunately, it wasn't the professor's booming voice that replied, "I did. Glad you could make it."

Hermione's head shot up and was met by steely grey eyes. Platinum blond hair shone in the dim light of the room while a customary smirk hung from his lips. Draco Malfoy eyed her with cruel satisfaction. Hermione's blood ran cold as she stared at her former master.

"M- master Malfoy," she whispered, trying to regain her composure. "What…? What can I do for you?"

The vicious smirk on the blond's face even widened and Hermione wondered if it was too late to turn and run. Draco pushed away from the table he'd been leaning against and sauntered over to her, eyes shining maliciously. Hermione tensed as he stopped in front of her. The familiarity of this situation made fear creep up on her, but she refused to cower away from Draco. Instead, she met his ice cold gaze head-on.

"My, my, you've changed Hermione Rookwood," the Slytherin drawled, scorn in his voice.

He raised a hand and Hermione shuddered as he skimmed his fingers over the fabric of her dress, tugging at her short sleeve. Draco grinned evilly. "You curiously remind me of a little Mudblood I've misplaced some time ago."

Hermione's mouth thinned to an angry line and she pressed out, "Very curious."

"Indeed," Draco purred. "What a small world."

He flashed her his white teeth in an eerie smile and now his fingers ran over her curly hair. Hermione had to hold herself back from pushing his hand away from her. Draco could probably see how uncomfortable she was, because his eyes shone with sadistic amusement.

"You know," he simpered, a cruel undercurrent in his light tone. "I had a bit of a crush on Hermione Rookwood."

Hermione tensed and her eyes widened as his fingers curled around her wrist and he abruptly pulled her against him. He held her in place as he whispered into her ear,

"I think all the Slytherin guys had. Well, some of the girls, too…"

Hermione shied away from his closeness, hands pushing against his chest. Draco didn't allow her much movement. One hand grasped her by the waist, the other painfully held her by the back of her neck. His voice was still eerily light as he told her,

"It's disgusting." His fingers viciously tightened around her neck. "How  _dare_  you prance around like one of us, you filthy Mudblood?"

With that he brutally shoved Hermione away from him. The next thing she knew, Draco had slapped her around the face and she crashed against the wall. His cold laughter washed over her. Cheek throbbing sharply, Hermione peered up at him. An unsavoury grin hung from his lips as Draco hissed,

"Welcome back, Penny."

 _That name…_  Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She could barely breathe around the lump in her throat. Her whole life she'd been Penny, the worthless slave girl. Her eyes shot up to the arrogant Slytherin. The disdainful look on his face fuelled Hermione's anger.

"Penny's  _gone_!" she snarled. "You stay away from me."

Draco wasn't at all impressed by her tone. A dark look crossed his face and he hissed, "Watch how you talk to me, you're still  _my_ Mudblood."

Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust and snapped heatedly, "I'm not your anything."

Draco smirked at her and scoffed, "What? You think Riddle's gonna swoop in to save you again?"

He took a swift step towards Hermione and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up so she had to look at him.

"Riddle doesn't give a fuck about you," Draco sneered cruelly. "In case you didn't notice, he's done playing with you."

Hermione angrily pushed his hand away from her. "I don't need Tom to help me."

Draco completely ignored her protest and decided ruthlessly, "You're coming with me back to the manor, Penny. And if I hear another word out of you, I'm going to make you regret it."

The threat made Hermione take a step away from him. A hint of panic was ridging her tone as she snapped. "I'm not coming back to you. Stay the hell away from me!"

With that she turned around, intending to bolt. Draco had other plans, though, and grabbed her by the arm. Hermione tried to pull away from his hold. As that didn't work, she kicked him in the shin. Draco hissed and stumbled a step away. Before Hermione could use her chance, though, he raised a hand and slapped her again.

"How dare you?!" Draco snarled furiously.

Hermione gasped in pain as he grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her closer. Fear and adrenaline rushing through her, she desperately tried to get away from him.

"Stop it!" Draco ordered threateningly.

As if to reinforce his statement, he shook Hermione brutally. With grim determination, she fought against him. Relentlessly, Draco grabbed her right arm and twisted it behind her back. He twirled her around and brutally pushed her against the stone wall, pressing his body into her back so she couldn't move away. The joint of her shoulder burned achingly as Draco put more of his weight on her right arm and Hermione whimpered in pain.

"I'm going to curse you for this," he hissed into her ear. "What do you think? What curse shall I use? Hm? Cruciatus? Maybe I'm gonna cut out your tongue first. That'll stop your backtalk."

The threat was very clear and panic was starting to overwrite Hermione. Desperately, she struggled against his grip. Draco's hand tightened warningly around her wrist and he put even more pressure on her shoulder. Hermione cried out in pain.

"Stop struggling," he commanded sharply.

Heart hammering away in her chest, Hermione closed her eyes. Her whole body went limp and she desisted from fighting against the Slytherin. Her forehead leaned against the stone wall and she took in a deep breath of air. Draco, delighted by her surrender, laughed cruelly,

"Much better."

Hermione's right arm was still twisted behind her back. She could feel her shoulder smarting where the joint was overstretched. Her heart raced in her chest as Draco held her in place.

She  _couldn't_  go back to Malfoy manor.

Hermione didn't really consider her next actions. She raised the hand that Draco wasn't keeping imprisoned and put it against the wall. Then, using all the strength she had left, Hermione forcefully pushed herself away from the wall. Draco hadn't expected any resistance anymore and lost his balance as Hermione pressed on. He still held to her right arm and she felt the pressure on the joint increasing. There was a grinding sensation in the shoulder, followed by sharp pain and a popping sound as the humerus joint head sprung out of the socket. Hermione ignored the blinding pain and used her other arm to ram her elbow backwards. She was rewarded by a painful groan and finally Draco released her right arm. Without hesitation, Hermione whipped around to him. The Slytherin was hunched forward, painfully holding his stomach. As he looked up, though, Hermione saw the fury glinting in his grey eyes. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he hissed,

"You're going to regret this."

 _Probably_ , Hermione thought, but couldn't bring herself to care. She raised her left hand, balled into a fist, and with all the force she could muster punched Draco in the face. There was a satisfying crunching sound coming from his nose. Draco howled in pain and raised a hand trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose. For a second, Hermione just stared at him with wide eyes.

Then, before he could regain his bearings, she turned, threw open the door and ran away.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hours after her encounter with Draco, the sharp pain in Hermione's shoulder had ebbed to a constant throbbing ache. Delicately, she held her arm pressed against her chest as she stood in front of the huge fireplace in the kitchens. Around her the other Mudbloods were busy, cleaning or cooking, but Hermione had eyes only for the small crest carved into the stone of the fireplace. She'd never noticed it before.

The Baron had been right after all. Hermione smiled softly as she ran a finger over Hufflepuff's crest. Soot had blackened the stone over the time, almost completely hiding the small crest. Hermione felt a concealment charm and several other minor protection spells tingling under her fingers. It wouldn't take long to work around them if only she had a wand. Hermione sighed tiredly.

"There you are," a voice cut through her contemplation.

Hermione glanced at Dobby standing beside her. The man's eyes wandered over her, lingering at her shoulder. Concern wrapped around his voice, he asked, "Are you feeling better?"

Hermione nodded, throwing him a smile. "Yes. Thanks again for taking care of me."

Dobby waved her thanks away. "Think nothing of it. I really wish things like that wouldn't happen to us." The man sadly shook his head. "'s just not right. Hurting girls like that."

Hermione looked back at the Hufflepuff's crest. The smile on her face grew sharper as she confessed, "I punched Malfoy."

"What?!" Dobby cried in shock. "No, you didn't! Penny?!"

His eyes were widened in panic as he stared at her. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. The fear on Dobby's face was very valid, she knew. Draco would want revenge. Still, Hermione didn't regret her actions. The pompous git had deserved it. It had actually felt pretty good.

"Draco's an ass," Hermione told Dobby.

The man raked a shaky hand through his hair and threw her a reproachful look. The grin didn't leave Hermione's face and Dobby sighed tiredly.

"I don't have to tell you that you're going to be in trouble for this?"

"No," Hermione laughed. "No, you really don't."

Dobby shook his head at her reckless behaviour. Then he leaned closer to her and whispered conspiratorially, "You're right, though. He  _is_  an ass."

There was an amused glint in his eyes that made Hermione giggle. Dobby smiled at her softly.

"You know, I think the Headmaster's office needs a good cleaning. How about you do that? That'll give you a few hours without having to look over your shoulder for any vengeful wizards."

"Okay." Hermione threw a grateful glance at the man. "Thank you."

†

As it turned out, Dippet's office really wasn't all that untidy. Hermione didn't have to do much more than dust a bit. It was a good thing, too, because her shoulder still smarted horribly. Dobby had surely known that and that's also why he gave her the easy chore. Hermione smiled at the thought of her new friend. Dobby was a good man. He really didn't deserve to live in chains, forced to do Dippet's bidding. Hermione sighed and gingerly rubbed her shoulder.  _Damn_ , she should have punched Draco harder.

"That does look quite painful, my child. Maybe you should ask someone to heal it for you."

Hermione gasped in surprise and twirled around. Dippet's office though was still dark and very much abandoned.

"Where are you?" Hermione whispered nervously.

"Over here."

Several portraits hung on the wall behind Dippet's desk. Most inhabitants were fast asleep in their frames, except for one portrait. Hermione cautiously stepped over to the picture. It depicted an old man of maybe around sixty. Sitting on a lush arm chair, he wore a bright blue robe with small golden stars sewn on the cloth. His auburn hair and beard clashed quite spectacularly with the blue colour. Over golden-framed reading glasses, the man's clear blue eyes scanned Hermione interestedly while a kind smile played around his mouth.

"Er... I'm sorry," Hermione whispered tentatively. "I didn't want to disturb you, sir."

"Oh, no harm done," the portrait answered pleasantly. "I wasn't sleeping anyway. You see, as a portrait you can't do much anymore and after some time even sleep doesn't want to come easily."

"Oh," murmured Hermione timidly. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry to hear."

"It's quite alright," the man replied lightly.

Hermione warily took a step towards him. She admittedly wasn't very fond of portraits. The portraits at Malfoy manor had always yelled at her or alerted someone so she would get punished when she had done something wrong. The man in the portrait scanned her shoulder and concern glimmered in his eyes.

"Whatever happened to you, my child?"

Hermione blinked at him, taken off guard by the worry in his tone. "Nothing. That was- …just nothing."

The man's eyes wandered to her face. He still looked worried.  _What a strange portrait_ , Hermione decided.

"If you want, I could teach you a spell to heal yourself," the man suggested gently.

She raised her eyebrows at that. "That would be really great. But… but you see, I'm a Mudblood. I can't do any healing magic."

The man in the portrait visibly winced as he heard her saying the word 'Mudblood'. Hermione stared at him in bewilderment.

"What's your name, my dear child?"

"Penny."

He threw her a small smile. "And your real name?"

"Er…" Hermione stared at him in astonishment. Then she confided hesitantly, "Hermione. Hermione Granger."

The smile on his face grew. "A very nice name it is."

Hermione hesitantly returned the smile.

"You shouldn't call yourself a Mudblood, Hermione," the man told her seriously.

She blinked at him, a frown between her eyebrows. "But that's what I am."

He shook his head, suddenly a sad expression on his kind face. "No. You are a Muggleborn."

"Isn't that the same?"

"Hm." He eyed her thoughtfully. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." He winked at her, making Hermione blush slightly.

"Let me tell you, my little rose," he said, his eyes twinkling at her. "Your blood is as pure as anyone else's. That will never change, even if people keep calling it mud."

Hermione stared at the portrait with wide eyes. A feeling was swelling up deep in her chest. It warmly wrapped around her, making tears spring to her eyes and a smile appear on her face. She quickly wiped the tears away but continued to smile at the man in the portrait.

"Who  _are_  you?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"Albus Dumbledore, at your service." He grinned at her.

"I've never come upon a portrait quite like you, sir," Hermione said softly.

He smiled at her warmly. "And I have never met a lady who could charm me so."

She giggled as she heard it. Her eyes shortly wandered over the other portraits, all former headmasters of Hogwarts. "I've heard of you, Master Dumbledore. You were the one fighting against Grindelwald. But I didn't know you've been Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Oh, that was many years ago," he sighed. "I've been headmaster so briefly, I'm surprised they even granted me with a portrait." His clear blue eyes wandered over her as he added, "And please, call me 'Albus'."

Hermione drew in a surprised breath of air. Not many wizards would allow someone like her to call them by their name, let alone their first name.

"Thank you," She looked at him shyly. "Albus."

Albus smiled at her kindly and a smile blossomed on Hermione's face. She proceeded to clean Dippet's office, enjoying it very much as Albus kept telling her stories about the time he had been a teacher at Hogwarts. At first she wouldn't believe him as he told her how back then Mudbl-  _Muggleborns_  had been allowed at school. In wonder she listened as Albus told her that Muggleborns had used to visit Hogwarts just like any other witch or wizard.

Hermione was dusting the shelves as her gaze fell on the Sorting Hat. She carefully picked the hat up and looked at it. It was still as tattered as she remembered it. Glancing at Albus, she asked,

"Albus? Did Godric Gryffindor really create the Sorting Hat?"

The man in the portrait nodded. "Yes. As far as I know."

Hermione hesitated shortly. So far, Albus had been very kind, maybe he wouldn't mind if she asked another question.

"Do you know of another object Gryffindor created?"

Albus raised his eyebrows at her. "Why would you want to know that?"

Hermione gulped nervously. "Er… I was j- just curious."

"Well, curiosity is the first step to knowledge," he replied gently.

Hermione peered at him. She could only see kindness in his eyes.  _Maybe he knows_ , she wondered hopefully. After all, he had once been Headmaster. Hermione still needed to find the last of the Founders' objects. She couldn't allow Tom to have it.

"I'm trying to find them," Hermione confessed softly.

"Find what?" Albus inquired softly.

"The Founders' objects."

Hermione glanced at him and as she found nothing but curiosity on his face she went on, "I already know where Hufflepuff's Cup is. But I have no idea what Gryffindor's object even is. I don't know what to search."

"You found Helga's Cup?" Albus asked, obviously impressed. "Oh, how I wish I could leave this frame, Hermione. I would love to join you in your quest."

Hermione smiled at him.

"But maybe I can help you even without leaving my picture," he offered jovially.

"You know about Gryffindor?"

"Well, as a teacher here at Hogwarts, I was head of Gryffindor house. So I know a bit about Godric Gryffindor," Albus mused. "Long ago I've read a legend about a fabled sword that Gryffindor was supposed to have bought from a Goblin named Ragnuk."

"A sword?" Hermione asked, excitement bubbling up in her.

Albus nodded, amusement all over his face. "Yes. Legend says that Gryffindor weaved many a spell around the sword, enhancing its power. I'm sure there're people who would kill to possess something so valuable. After Gryffindor's death, his family feverishly searched for his fabled sword. It very nearly sparked a war between Gryffindor's relatives and the Goblins who, after Godric's death, claimed the sword fell back into their possession. In the end, though, it didn't matter at all because neither of them could ever find the sword."

"Do  _you_  know where Gryffindor hid it?" Hermione blurted out.

Albus winked at her. "No-one really knows. But I once found a very old book, written by a distant descendant of Gryffindor's. She claimed that Godric Gryffindor had concealed the sword using very strong warding magic. The very same spells, actually, which are woven into the fabric of that hat you are holding, Hermione."

Hermione was startled and stared down at the old Sorting Hat in her hand. "What? Do you mean the sword is inside the hat?"

Albus shrugged. "That's at least what Lady Delwyn thought. She also claimed that only the one who is at heart a true Gryffindor could pull the sword from the hat."

Hermione stared in wonder at the inconspicuous hat in her hands. Albus chuckled softly and added, "Of course that was before Lady Delwyn tried and failed to procure the sword from the hat. After that she took back everything she had written prior and stated that Godric Gryffindor was – and I quote – 'a senile old bat who couldn't tell the difference between a sword and a butter knife'."

Hermione giggled but still scanned the Sorting Hat with fascination. Finally she looked up at Albus and said, "You know, all this 'only a true Gryffindor can pull the sword out' sounds a lot like the legend of King Arthur and Excalibur."

Albus grinned back at her. "Where only the true king of England can pull Excalibur from the rock?"

"Yes. Hufflepuff even left us with an elusive grail…" Hermione mused pensively. "I wonder where that leaves me? I'm certainly not a king of anything."

Albus eyed her contemplatively. "Hm, what other character would suit you?"

She smiled at him. "Maybe Morgan LeFey? Isn't she the witch in that story?"

"Indeed. Though she  _was_  a rather dark witch…" Albus said, sounding unconvinced. Then he beamed at her and added, "I would say you are more like Nimue, the Lady of the Lake."

"Nimue?"

He nodded, eyes twinkling merrily. "There are many myths about Nimue. One says that she was a water spirit. Living in a lake, she guarded Excalibur until she bestowed it to King Arthur. Another legend says Nimue was a mortal woman who learned magic from Merlin himself. As Merlin fell in love with her, Nimue could not reciprocate the feelings. In the end she used her magic to trap Merlin in the trunk of a tree."

Hermione smiled as she heard it. "I think it would be nice, being a water spirit. I could go and live in the Great Lake."

She cautiously turned the Sorting Hat around and looked into it. Sadly, though, she found no sword.

"I also like the other story," Hermione continued. "Maybe I can use the idea and trap Tom in a tree trunk. I wonder what spell Nimue used."

Albus observed her over his half-moon spectacles. "Tom?"

Hermione looked up from the hat, smile falling from her lips. "Tom Riddle. He's actually the reason I search for those objects the Founders created."

"Really?" Albus raised his eyebrows. "Are you searching them for him?"

"No." Hermione quickly shook her head. "It's more like I need to find them before he does. I don't want him to get them."

"How come?" Albus asked. "Is it some kind of race between the two of you?"

"It's not that harmless." She smiled at him faintly. "Do you know Tom Riddle?"

"I've only seen him once or twice," Albus replied, suddenly the twinkle in his eyes dimmed slightly. "When he was here in the office talking with Professor Dippet."

"Well, Tom's after those objects," Hermione told the portrait. "And he's already found two."

"Did he?" Albus inquired in surprise. "Which ones?"

"Ravenclaw's Diadem and Slytherin's Locket." Hermione bit her lip before she admitted, "I stole the locket from him. And I… I actually destroyed it."

Albus' clear blue eyes widened in shock. "You destroyed one of the Founders' objects?"

Hermione nodded, eyeing the portrait cautiously. "I'm sorry, but there was no other chance to stop Tom."

"To stop him from doing what exactly?" Albus inquired softly.

Hermione averted her eyes from him and stared down at the Sorting Hat in her hands. Tom's plan made her feel sick.

"I don't know," she sighed. "…I don't know what to do."

"About what?" Albus eyed her in concern.

"Tom's idea is…" Hermione shuddered in disgust. "It's wrong,  _evil_. I need to stop him. I don't want him to hurt anyone."

"So he is not a friend? But an adversary?" Albus asked gingerly.

Hermione looked at him, desperation swimming in her eyes. "I don't know. I've no idea what Tom is. I hate him but he was… so close. And now, I can't even stand to look at him." She tentatively skimmed her fingers over the brim of the hat. "I  _have_  to stop him."

"I see," Albus said contemplatively. "But why do you need to keep him away from the Founders' objects?"

"It… It's…" Hermione stared at the portrait for a while until she asked, "Are you going to tell anyone about this?"

Albus smiled at her widely. "No, my dear. There are not many people I talk to these days and I would never break your confidentiality if you don't want me to."

"Okay," Hermione breathed shakily.

She sat down on the edge of Dippet's desk and looked at Albus' portrait. Hermione swallowed thickly before she said, "Tom wants to… he wants to turn the Founders' objects into Horcruxes."

Albus' eyes widened in shock as he heard it. Then he skimmed a hand over his long auburn beard as he scanned Hermione thoughtfully.

"Horcruxes? He wants to create more than one?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "That's what he told me."

"Do you know what a Horcrux is, Hermione?" Albus asked gravely.

"I looked it up," she replied sombrely. "So yes, I know. They are like anchors, trapping the soul of a person to the earth. Even if the person dies, the Horcrux will keep the soul in this world."

"Immortality," Albus said, voice heavy and grave. "Though to create a Horcrux, another life has to be sacrificed."

"Murder," Hermione said sadly. "will split the soul."

"Do you think Tom Riddle is capable of murder?" Albus asked gingerly.

She breathed in deeply. "Yes."

After this the two sat in silence. Hermione looked down at the Sorting Hat. The reality of this situation painfully washed over her.

"Hermione?" Albus said gently.

She looked up at him.

"I think you are right to try to stop him," he told her. "He has no right to take another life to extend his own. If he succeeds, he'll not only hurt others but himself as well."

"It's more than just the killing, isn't it?" Hermione said faintly.

Albus nodded, sombre look on his face. "Creating a Horcrux is very dark magic. Using magic like this will always leave deep scars. Tom Riddle plans to meddle with things that should be left untouched and whole."

Hermione's eyes widened. For a moment, she didn't say anything. She breathed in deeply and looked down at the hat in her hands. She felt sick.

"I can't forgive Tom," she finally stated. "He's cruel and ruthless. He never cared if I got hurt or even killed."

Hermione shuddered and subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. Her gaze wandered back to Albus and she admitted hesitantly, almost ashamed of it, "I don't want anyone to get killed for Tom's Horcruxes, but I also… I… I don't want  _him_  to die either. It's stupid. I know. I shouldn't even care."

A kind smile appeared on Albus' face. "Caring is never a bad thing, Hermione. Though, it sometimes hurts." He looked at her hopefully and asked, "Do you think you could convince him to abandon his plan?"

"No, I tried to. He didn't want to listen."

"You have to keep trying," Albus said. "He needs to understand that he will destroy himself if he doesn't stop."

Hermione peered at the portrait. "Talking won't work with Tom. He doesn't care about me. Never did. I have to  _force_  him to stop." She sighed and ran a weary hand over her face. "You know what's pathetic? Tom was the first wizard who ever showed me kindness, who didn't treat me like a worthless piece of dirt or just slapped me around. But it all was a lie and in the end he was just using me like everyone else. I know that and still can't forget those moments when he treated me like… like a human being. It changed me.  _Tom_  changed me. And I'm pathetic because it was all a lie."

"Not pathetic. Never that." A sad look crossed Albus' face. "I am very sorry that you had to be born into such an unjust world, Hermione. You would have deserved so much more."

"Thank you." She smiled at him faintly. Then she asked, "Do you think there's a way to undo a Horcrux?"

Albus removed his glasses and looked at her thoughtfully. "There are. Several. But only one will save Tom on the way."

"What would that be?"

"He would need to repair his soul."

"How?"

"Remorse."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Just like that? Remorse?"

Albus chuckled as he heard her. "Well, it sounds easier than it's done. He would need to regret the fact that he took a human life. The pain of that realisation will repair the soul."

She stared at him. "Well, I don't think that would work out. Tom's not exactly a very emotional person."

She stood up from her position on the desk and looked down at the old Sorting Hat. Sceptically she turned it in her hand before she glanced at Albus.

"How exactly would a sword fit into this?" She raised the hat up. "Are you sure it's not more like a dagger? A butter knife after all?"

Albus chuckled amusedly. "It's magic, Hermione. You only need to believe in it."

"Yeah, right," she said, unconvinced.

She put her hand into the hat but came up with nothing except a few pieces of fuzz. She looked at Albus accusingly.

"It's not working."

He smiled mischievously. "Maybe if you can't do it, Tom won't be able to either and your problem is solved."

Hermione shook her head. "No. That would be too easy. Unfortunately, Tom's a very powerful wizard. If he knew the sword is inside the hat, he would find a way to get it out."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was the next day that Hermione stepped into the Transfiguration professor's office. McGonagall was sitting behind her desk and Hermione quickly bowed to the woman.

"You wanted to see me, Mistress McGonagall?"

"Hermione," the woman greeted warmly.

There was the rustling of fabric and a chair was scraped over the floor. Hermione still bowed deeply and startled as a hand was softly placed on her shoulder. Cautiously, she looked up at McGonagall.

"How are you?" the woman inquired, arching one stern eyebrow.

"I'm fine, Mistress," was Hermione's quick reply.

A sceptical look crossed McGonagall's face. Her eyes wandered over Hermione, taking in her appearance. Hermione shuffled, feeling embarrassed. She knew her dress was quite filthy, as was her wild hair. With all the work, Hermione didn't really have much time to take care of herself. A quick wash over the sink was all she could afford these days.

"You don't look fine," McGonagall voiced before she demanded to know, "What happened to your shoulder?"

Hermione quickly shook her head and assured, "Nothing."

Of course it was a lie and her injured shoulder still ached quite badly. Why McGonagall would care, though, Hermione didn't know. Still worry shone through the woman's otherwise stern face.

"I hope the other students don't give you any grief?"

Hermione inclined her head. "No, Mistress McGonagall."

The professor sighed as she heard the reply. She didn't look convinced at all but luckily didn't pursue the topic any longer. Instead, McGonagall reached into her robe pocket and retrieved a potion vial. She thrust it into Hermione's hands with the curt order,

"You should take this." Before Hermione could react, she continued, "I've called you here, because I have a task for you."

In wonder, Hermione had stared at the Pepperup potion in her hand, but now she duteously nodded her head.

"Of course, Mistress McGonagall. What can I do for you?"

McGonagall cleared her throat awkwardly, before she said, "I need you to go down to the greenhouses. Professor Beery can't seem to get the valerian patches free of weeds. I'm sure you could help him."

"Yes, Mistress McGonagall," Hermione replied obediently.

She actually looked forward to it. Working outside in the sunshine sounded like a wonderful alternative to helping Winky with laundry duty.

"Very well," McGonagall allowed.

Then she again sat down behind her table and reached for her quill. Obviously, the woman was in the middle of grading essays. Hermione again bowed to her respectfully, before she turned to leave.

"Oh and, Hermione?" McGonagall's soft voice held her back.

Door handle in hand, Hermione turned around to her. There was a thin smile hovering around the professor's lips as she said,

"You're dealing with all this quite admirably. I'm proud of you."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "T- thank you."

†

It really was rather nice, Hermione decided as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She had spent the last hour pulling up weeds from a patch of valerian plants. The sun shone merrily down on Hermione and birds nearby chirped. Professor Beery had disappeared into one of the greenhouses and Hermione was quite alone. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. The air smelled sweet, heavy with the scents of spring. A smile curled her lips as she heard the bees buzzing from flower to flower. This was indeed a rather nice chore. She even managed to push all thoughts of Horcruxes and lost magical swords from her thoughts. After the Pepperup potion her shoulder didn't even hurt that much anymore. Smiling contently, Hermione continued weeding.

"Looks like you're enjoying yourself there," a deep voice cut through the tranquil moment.

Hermione startled violently. Her head shot up at the speaker. Shock crashed over her as she was met with yellow eyes. Feeling utterly stunned, Hermione stuttered weakly,

"Lupin?"

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair sword in that hand.** _ **Lo!**_ **said Merlin,** _ **yonder is that sword that I spake of**_ **. With that they saw a damosel going upon the lake.** _ **What damosel is that?**_ **said Arthur.** _ **That is the Lady of the Lake**_ **, said Merlin;'**

**\- Sir Thomas Malory (* 1405 † 1471)**


	34. As if in Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet some of you've waited for this chapter :) at least I had fun writing it. More of Lupin in this chapter :D He kinda grew on me. Also, in this chapter we'll get a look into Tom's mind. That's always nice :D anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think ^^
> 
> Thank you all for giving me kudos on last chapter. You're all awesome! \\(^o^)/  
> Special thanks to rainniedays and HopelessHiraeth for commenting!

_Shock crashed over Hermione as she blinked up at yellow eyes._

" _Lupin?"_

.

Indeed, clothed in the black uniform of the Corps, the werewolf stood in the valerian patch and sported a content grin on his face.

"Who else did you expect?"

Hot tears sprang to Hermione's eyes and she felt her throat burn and constrict. Overwhelmed by emotions, she threw herself at the werewolf. Her arms were tightly wrapped around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. Lupin quickly slung his arms around her and held her protectively. Hermione's tears soaked his shirt as the dam broke and she sobbed.

"Come on, little one," Lupin's raspy voice crooned. "It can't be that bad, now, can it?"

Hermione sniffled pathetically against his black uniform shirt. "W- where have you b- been?"

The werewolf laughed mirthlessly. "In the same situation as you. Exposed."

Hermione peered up at him. Lupin's yellow eyes observed her calmly while a comforting smile hung from his lips. He released her from his embrace and used his sleeve to gingerly wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Now tell me," Lupin suggested softly. "What happened to you?"

Hermione's lower lip trembled dangerously, new tears pooling in her eyes. She breathed in deeply to compose herself. Still, her voice was shaky as she said,

"T- Tom… I did something and he d- didn't approve…"

There was a fire blazing in the werewolf's eyes. A furious snarl twisted his features, revealing razor-sharp teeth. If he hadn't needed the moon, Hermione was sure Lupin would have turned into a wolf right then and there.

"Riddle?" he growled. "The bastard gave you away?"

Hermione's stomach clenched as she had to nod her head.

"Why? Why did he do it?"

A bleak smile curled Hermione's lips. "Does it really matter?"

Lupin's fingers angrily flexed around the wand, hanging in its holster from his hip. "No. It fucking doesn't matter. That miserable piece of shit!"

Hermione startled as something nipped at her fingers. She looked down and only now noticed that Lupin was accompanied by a huge black dog. Its fur was ragged and wild looking, but the eyes had an intelligent sheen as they blinked up at Hermione. Enjoying her attention, the dog smugly rubbed its snout against her hand.

"Oh yeah," Lupin said wryly. "Meet Snuffles. He's a dog."

"I- I can see that," replied Hermione, awkwardly patting the dog's head.

Its tail wagged happily and a smile formed on her face. Looking at Lupin, she asked, "He's not a werewolf, is he?"

At that Lupin barked out a laugh. "I can tell, you've never really seen a transformed werewolf, have you? It's not even a full moon."

His sharp teeth glinted as he grinned at her widely. Then he pulled at one of the dog's ears and declared, "Nah. This is just a regular, stupid dog."

The black dog turned around and took a bite at the werewolf's fingers. Lupin pulled away, still laughing. Hermione just raised her eyebrows at their antics. The dog quickly lost interest in Lupin and trotted back to Hermione. He sat down beside her, ears erect, and looked like a sentry.

"Hermione." Lupin's voice grew serious again. "We've found a way to get you out. We got a modified Portkey that can pull you through Hogwarts' wards."

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. "You mean I can pass the wards?"

"Yes. The lock-down stops normal Portkeys from working." Lupin's gaze dropped to the Dark Mark on her forearm. "Our Portkey is stronger …bit darker too, but what can you do? As long as it works."

Hermione gnawed at her lower lip. "Okay…"

The werewolf eyed the frown on her face and soothed, "Seriously, I'm pretty sure it's safe."

"It's not that," Hermione whispered softly. Her gaze wandered to the Hogwarts' castle. "I felt at home here."

Lupin stepped closer to her and gently draped an arm around her shoulders. "We all did."

Hermione leaned into his side. "Are you sure Sirius still wants me? I'm causing so much trouble."

The huge black dog nuzzled Hermione's hand and Lupin laughed, "You don't know the crazy bugger. This shit's right up his alley."

Hermione absently patted the dog's head and replied insecurely, "But I messed up so badly. I'm not worth all the effort and risks you take."

This time it wasn't Lupin who heatedly insisted, "You are!"

Hermione flinched and whipped around. Where the black dog had sat just seconds before now stood a man. Long black hair, handsome and tall, Sirius Black had seemingly appeared out of thin air. With his worn green parka and distressed jeans, he struck a stark contrast to Lupin's black uniform.

"Mate," the werewolf grunted in frustration. "I  _told_  you not to. It's too dangerous."

Sirius just shrugged his shoulders, not looking apologetic at all. Lupin sighed in defeat, "I shouldn't have let you talk me into taking you along."

"Aw, come  _on_." Sirius grinned widely. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Y- you're a… an Animagus?" Hermione blurted shakily.

Sirius turned to her. He patted his chest and announced proudly, "You bet I am. The very best."

Lupin rolled his eyes but didn't comment. Hermione's heart skipped a few beats as she stared at the leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Y- you really came here? For me?"

Sirius grinned. "Of course. Anything for my most favourite witch."

"But I'm not really a witch," Hermione reminded, embarrassed.

"You  _are_. You're one of us."

Her eyes tickled dangerously, yet she still smiled. She hastened over to Sirius and collided with his chest. She hugged him tightly and shuffled even closer as she felt his arms wrap around her.

"Didn't believe I would get you, did you?" Sirius deep voice whispered gently to her.

Hermione choked out a half-sob, half-laugh. Sirius bent down to her and placed a careful kiss on her head.

.

Tom's temper boiled with rage as Hermione melted into the man's embrace. Keeping his back pressed against the greenhouse's rear wall, he crept closer, wand in hand. It had been a good call to follow his Mudblood as he'd seen her sneaking out of the castle.

"Thank you for coming," Tom heard Hermione whisper.

A smile hovered around her lips as she looked up at the black-haired man. Tom had no problems recognizing him. This was Sirius Black, leader of the Order of the Phoenix. Since when did Hermione know Black?! Tom's thoughts were racing. A lethal sheen danced in his eyes as he watched Black hugging Hermione against him.

"I promised we'd get you," Black told Hermione.

_Did he now?_  Tom wondered resentfully. When had that happened? Hermione stepped away from the man, ending the embrace.

"Yes, you did. Thank you."

Tom didn't like the sound of this. For how long had Hermione been communicating with the Order of the Phoenix? His gaze wandered from Black to the werewolf. Remus Lupin was in on this as well?

"So, you're ready to leave? All packed up, sweetie?" Black's voice cut through Tom's thoughts.

_Sweetie?!_  Tom was hit by a new flush of anger. Exactly what  _was_  Black to Hermione?

"D- do we need to leave at once?" Hermione nervously asked. "There's… there's something I have to deal with at Hogwarts. Unfinished business."

In response Black's brow knitted in confusion. "What're you talking about?"

"I started something. I can't leave it like this."

No, Hermione  _couldn't_  leave. Tom irately narrowed his eyes at her. He wouldn't allow it.

"Please," Lupin stepped in. "if this is misplaced loyalty that holds you… Believe me, Riddle's not worth it. After all of this, you-"

"It's not that," Hermione interrupted. "I know what Tom is. You won't hear me defending him."

Tom's fingers flexed around his wand. Next time he was alone with her, he would curse Hermione.

"Then what?" Black questioned desperately. "What holds you back?"

Hermione nervously eyed the man but didn't reply.

"Hermione," Lupin urged. "I don't know what you  _think_  you have to do, but it's too dangerous. You don't owe anyone your help. Let them take care of their own shit."

"I'm not doing this for anybody." A cold glint entered Hermione's eyes and her voice was hard as stone as she hissed, "I  _have_  to do this. I can't let Tom get away with this."

_Get away with_ _what_ _?_  Tom's furious magic raged inside him.

The werewolf sighed, "I've seen that look before. You're on a mission, aren't you?"

Hermione glanced at Lupin. "I suppose you can call it that."

"I see," the man chuckled mirthlessly. "If I learned anything in the Corps, then not to step between a soldier and their mission …still you can't stay here. I won't ask you to drop your mission but it's time to regroup."

Tom saw Hermione wavering. Before the Mudblood could reply anything, Black decided sternly, "I won't let you stay here."

"Are you angry with me?" Hermione questioned diffidently.

The girl scanned Black timidly, gnawing at her lower lip. Irately, Tom wondered if sometimes Hermione wasn't playing that frightened Mudblood card to get her way.

"We're not angry," Lupin assured. "Just worried."

"I'm sorry," Hermione breathed, insisting on her shy act.

"It's fine." Black draped an arm around her shoulders. "You've got some baggage to take care of. Can't blame you." He tapped Hermione's forehead and added, "I don't want to hold you back, but you've  _gotta_  trust me on this one. We're friends, right? I want to keep you safe."

_Friends…_ Why  _the hell_  did Hermione know Black? Tom took in a deep breath, trying to calm his upcoming temper. How could he have missed this?

"I promise," Black tried to convince her. "I'll help you finish whatever crazy mission you've got to accomplish at Hogwarts. But for now you'll come with us."

Tom's temper flared dangerously. How dare Black presume he could order Hermione around? Irately, he watched as the girl caved and softly nodded. Lately, she never obeyed when  _Tom_  told her anything.

"Before we leave…" the werewolf commented.

Suspiciously, Tom watched as Lupin pulled a wand from his pocket and handed it to Hermione.

"I bet you've missed this." The stupid werewolf grinned widely.

Hermione stared in wonder down at the wand in her hand. Of course Tom recognized the chestnut wood. It was the wand  _he_  had given her.

"Where did you find it?" Hermione voiced Tom's thoughts.

"Yeah," Black hummed. "When'd you pull that off?"

Lupin chuckled. "I had a chat with McGonagall before we met you here, Hermione. She gave it to me."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up and so did Tom's. "McGonagall?"

Black scanned the werewolf in suspicion. "Didn't know you two were so buddy-buddy."

Lupin just shrugged, still grinning. "What can I say? I'm a people person."

"Yeah right," Black snorted sarcastically. Then he shrugged it off, "Time to go."

Tom's eyes grew wide as the man pulled an old Muggle torch from his pocket. It glowed in the blue light of a Portkey. Tom hadn't realized they would  _really_  drag Hermione away.

"Come here." Black motioned for Hermione to come closer. "We all have to touch it."

Something ice cold ran down Tom's spine as he watched his Mudblood step over to Black and the Portkey. The next thing he knew, Tom somehow had abandoned his hiding spot and spat out an angry,

"Stop!"

Hermione whirled around to him, her curly hair flying wildly. Her two male companions instantly pulled their wands.

"T- Tom?" Hermione stuttered. "What a- are you doing here?"

Tom sneered at her. " _Me?_ What are  _you_  doing here?"

"I…"

Hermione's eyes searchingly wandered over him and Tom's fingers tightened around his wand. She must have come to a verdict, because the initial shock fell from her pretty face to be replaced by coldness. The next time she spoke, Hermione's voice was painfully distanced,

"It's none of your business what I do."

Tom's anger spiked and he yelled at her, "You belong to me! You can't just run away."

Lupin bared his teeth in a snarl. "Hermione doesn't need your permission!"

Tom threw the werewolf a disdainful look, not replying anything. Then his angry glare flicked back to the Mudblood.

"Hermione, you're not going with them," he commanded viciously. "I order you to stay."

To reinforce this, Tom brutally yanked at the bond between them. Hermione gasped in pain and grabbed her left forearm. Instantly, Black's arm was around her shoulders, steadying her. Tom almost growled as he saw the man touching Hermione.

"How dare you treat Hermione like that?!" Black snapped. "You have no right-"

Hermione's hand on his arm stopped him. Tom watched how a grateful smile touched her features as she looked at Black.

"It's okay."

She turned to Tom and the smile quickly died. Instead, a disapproving frown appeared on her forehead and she sniped, "You had your chance, Tom. And you blew it. I'm going with them."

Her words made a strange tremor run through Tom's magic. Furiously, he ignored it and snarled, "No, you're not."

Hermione just shrugged as if his opinion didn't matter at all. She didn't even feel the need to reply anything. Instead, she turned to Black and said, voice tightly controlled,

"I think it's time to go."

Tom raised his wand, prepared to force her to stay. Seeing this, the werewolf stepped in front of Hermione as if he could protect her. Tom sneered at him.

"You can fight me," Lupin growled. "Maybe you win, maybe you lose. Either way, Hermione has time enough to make her getaway."

Tom's jaw clenched in anger. The wolf was right. He glanced at the Portkey in Black's hand. Hermione only had to touch it and she'd be gone.

"Don't even think about following us," Lupin's coarse voice warned. "If you come close to Hermione, I'll personally lead the squad that puts you out of action, Riddle. You're a good duellist, but when you're outnumbered, you're outnumbered."

Behind Lupin's back, Hermione now reached for the Portkey. Tom tensed as her fingers came closer and closer to the torch. She couldn't just leave. His gaze snapped from her hand to Hermione's face.

"Hermione…" Tom choked out and his voice was suddenly shaky, almost panicked.

Hermione flicked her brown eyes at him. There was a look of surprise on her face. Tom locked eyes with her and was unable to stop himself as his mouth opened and words fell out,

"Hermione…  _Please_ , don't go."

She furrowed her brow as he pleaded with her. Tom didn't know what was happening. He never begged. But he wasn't going to let her leave him. He hadn't known she  _could_  leave.

"I- " He would say anything to make her stay. "I'm sorry."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she stared at him. Tom only noticed how she was no longer reaching for the Portkey. Hope was welling up in him.

"I… I promise I'll change and treat you better. I  _need_  you here. With me."

Tom watched as Hermione pressed her eyes shut and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. She swallowed thickly. After a moment, her eyes snapped open. They glinted with determination as they flashed at him.

"I don't care." Tom felt his blood turn to ice as Hermione's sharp eyes bored into his. "I don't need you anymore."

With that, she hastily reached for the Portkey. The moment her fingers touched the torch Black waved his wand and both of them disappeared into thin air.

An evil grin stretched over Lupin's face. "Seems like she doesn't belong with you after all."

With these parting words, he produced a spare Portkey from his pocket. The next second, the werewolf was gone and Tom was the only one left.

.

Hermione pressed her eyes shut as she was pulled away by the Portkey. The trip didn't last longer than a few seconds. Abruptly, Hermione felt her feet hit firm ground and she stumbled. Before she completely lost her balance, someone grasped her shoulder.

"You alright there?" Sirius smiled down at her.

Hermione felt shaky from the confrontation with Tom. His apology had hit her hard. But he was lying. He wanted to trick her to stay with him so he could continue using and abusing her. Hermione wasn't going to waste time thinking about him. She pulled herself together and smiled up at Sirius.

"Yes. Thank you."

There was a soft pop and Lupin appeared out of thin air. A grim smirk darkened his features and his wand lay in his hand.

"Is…" Hermione inquired timidly. "Is he alright?"

Lupin swiftly stowed his wand away in its holster. His yellow eyes still glinted dangerously, but his features softened as he scanned her.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Hermione nodded, but didn't comment further. Instead she inspected their surroundings. Tall trees blocked out the sunlight, their green leaves softly nodding in the wind. The air was pregnant with the spicy scent of earth. Hermione breathed in deeply and a smile stretched her lips. They really had made it!

"Come on," Sirius' cheerful voice said.

He grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her with him. Lupin followed behind them, his soft steps barely making any sound. The trio wandered through the forest and Hermione hadn't felt so free in what felt like an eternity.

It didn't take long and the forest thinned. They stepped on a clearing and Hermione's heart leapt as she recognized the barracks. Not much had changed from her last visit to the werewolf base. Several one-storey buildings stood neatly arranged in two rows, leading up to a larger central building. Hermione smiled widely as she spotted a flag fluttering in the wind. It proudly showed the emblem of the Corps, a black wolf howling up to the yellow moon.

"I told you," Sirius said, smiling at her. "You're safe here."

A lone figure was waiting for them in front of the main building. As they reached the man, Lupin saluted to him. Hermione innocently blinked up at the vicious looking man and a smile formed on her face.

Colonel Greyback struck a frightening figure. Tall and bulky, he towered over Hermione. Greyback's eyes hungrily raked over her while his razor sharp claws glinted forebodingly in the sunlight. He could probably rip someone's throat out with them and his dangerous smirk proclaimed that he'd enjoy it too.

"Hermione Rookwood," the pack leader growled. "You've changed, havn't ya?"

Despite the sinister inflection in the man's voice, Hermione grinned up at him toothily.

"The Polyjuice is gone," she told him, gesturing at her face.

Greyback narrowed his eyes at her, appraising her. Slowly, he circled her, his steps soft and measured by predatory efficiency. Hermione felt his sharp claws ghosting over her shoulder. Greyback sniffed the air like a beast picking up the scent of its next victim. Then the man again stood in front of her and a smirk revealed his pointed teeth.

"Ya still the same," the pack leader declared contently.

Hermione chuckled. "What'd you expect?"

Greyback scratched his head. "Dunno. You've spent too much time in that posh school of yours. Thought ya gone soft."

"Yeah." Hermione shrugged. "Wasn't that posh in the end."

"I heard," Greyback hissed. "Those knobs treat ya badly?"

"I'm fine," she quickly assured. "Thank you for having me."

The werewolf sniffed condescendingly and advised, "Shoulda bit the lot of them."

"My dear man," Sirius drawled, shaking his head in mock-sadness. "Hermione's a  _civilised_  person. We don't go around biting people."

"Well, that's yer first mistake," Greyback told him sagely.

Sirius patted him consolingly on the shoulder. "How did  _you_  ever manage to become an authority figure?"

Greyback swiped at him, but Sirius had expected it and danced out of the way. The pack leader quickly lost interest in the banter and turned his attention to Lupin. Now serious, Greyback inquired,

"Any problems with your little rescue mission, Captain?"

"No, sir," came Lupin's reply. "Everything was working to plan."

Greyback nodded. Then his blue eyes wandered to a group of soldiers near-by and he barked at one of them,

"Hey, Pucey. Get over here."

A man with light blond hair jogged over to them. Like the other werewolves he wore the Corps' black uniform. Hermione spotted two green chevrons at the collar of his uniform shirt. Standing at attention in front of Greyback, the blond man saluted swiftly.

"Pucey, I need you to give Miss Hermione here a check-up," Greyback commanded.

"Yes, Sir."

Greyback's attention returned to Hermione. He grabbed her by the shoulder and said, "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but ya look like something the cat dragged in. So ya go with Corporal Pucey." Greyback gave Hermione a hearty push towards the blond man. "He's a trained Combat Medical Technician. The best we have. Yer in good hands."

Cautiously eyeing the man, Hermione stepped over to Pucey. Greyback laughed at her hesitance, "Don't worry. I'll send the mutt to get you later."

"Hey," came Sirius' indignant reply. "I resent that."

Greyback smirked at him, showing his sharp fangs. "But you  _are_  a dog, aren't ya?"

Sirius huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Only occasionally."

Greyback laughed loudly, but a calm voice pulled Hermione's attention away from them, "Miss Hermione?"

She looked up at the blond man standing beside her. The soldier gestured towards one of the barracks.

"Please, follow me."

Reluctantly, Hermione obeyed. She didn't like leaving Lupin, Sirius or even Greyback behind. Cautiously, she followed the soldier into one of the barracks. He led her into a small room. Hermione's nostrils were immediately assaulted by the smell of antiseptic. She spied medicine cabinets, dressing material and an array of potion vials.

"Please, sit down," Pucey said, gesturing at an examination table.

Hermione complied and hopped on the table. Dangling her feet, she watched as Pucey rolled a small metal rack filled with gauze and a few potion bottles over.

"Are you hurt in any way?" the werewolf inquired. "Any injuries I should know of?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

Pucey didn't look convinced and proceeded to wave his wand over her. Hermione shuddered as she felt his magic wash over her. The Corporal pursed his lips in concentration and hovered the wand over her shoulder.

"Did something happen to your right shoulder?"

"Yeah," Hermione admitted reluctantly. "Dislocated it."

Pucey frowned. "Dislocated…? And what treatment did you receive?"

"Well… I asked Dobby to help me reset it."

The frown on the man's face deepened and he inquired suspiciously, "What spell did he use?"

"Oh, no." Hermione shook her head. "No spell. He just pulled at my arm and then the joint kinda popped back in."

"You  _kinda popped_  your shoulder back in?" Pucey repeated, displeasure in his tone. At her nod, he sighed deeply. "Did you at least try to stabilise the joint? You shouldn't use the arm for some days."

"I tried to wrap it," Hermione told him and an embarrassed blush dusted her cheeks. "But the bandage wouldn't hold …and I had to do my chores."

"I see…"

Again Pucey waved his wand over her, magic bristling in the air. Hermione shuddered and her hands nervously gripped the edges of the examination table. After a while, Pucey lowered his wand. Suspicion in his gaze, he inquired,

"When was the last time you saw an actual doctor, Miss Hermione?"

Hermione looked down, shame bubbling up in her. Not wanting to meet the man's eyes, she just shrugged her shoulders. Hermione was acutely aware of the filthy dress that hung from her frame. She didn't want to imagine how she must look to the werewolf.

"It's okay," the man's voice soothed.

Hermione peered at Pucey. He was flashing his sharp teeth in a grin. "This is nothing. You should see some of the guys when they return from a mission. You'd think they've gone feral."

He expertly waved his wand over Hermione's shoulder and she could feel the pain slowly disappearing. She sighed in relief.

"I mean last time I've seen Jen..." Pucey glanced at Hermione. "You know Jen? Tall, brunette, looks like she could kill you with her pinkie? …which she can, I assure you."

He widened his eyes in faux concern and Hermione had to chuckle. Satisfied, Pucey wrapped a bandage around Hermione's shoulder. All the while he continued to chatter,

"Anyways, last time Jen's been on a mission, she didn't return for two months. No-one really knew what she'd been up to. But when she finally returned, I swear to Merlin and Circe, I saw her and thought it's a full moon and I hadn't noticed. Jen looked _vicious_."

Pucey grinned widely as he used some clips to fasten Hermione's bandage. Then he gingerly examined the burns Bellatrix had left behind on her forearm.

"How old are these?"

"A few days," Hermione replied timidly.

Pucey nodded pensively and grabbed a pot of ointment. He used a cotton bud to carefully apply the ointment to the burns. It stung a bit, but Hermione barely noticed, her attention drawn back to Pucey's story.

"When Jen came back," the werewolf said. "I had to give her a check-up as well. And when I did, she actually bit me." He threw a lopsided grin at Hermione. "Without provocation. Just like that. I mean, I'm lucky I'm already a werewolf or I would've been really pissed."

His laugh was contagious and Hermione grinned as well. Pucey reached for his wand and once again his diagnostic spells ran over Hermione.

"There're some old fractures and I can sense some spell damage here and there, but it's all healed quite well." He threw her a reassuring smile. "Nothing to worry about."

Hermione nodded softly. "Thank you."

Pucey gestured at the Dark Mark tattooed into her forearm and asked carefully, "Is that still linked to someone?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted hesitantly.

A disgusted expression crossed the werewolf's face as he looked at the ugly mark on Hermione's skin. "I'd love to get rid of that for you, but I'm afraid it's not that easy."

"That's okay." Hermione shrugged. "My master won't be able to reach me here."

Pucey winced slightly at the word 'master'. Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door. At Pucey's invitation, the door opened and in stepped Sirius, big smile splitting his face.

"Hermione," he greeted enthusiastically.

Sirius plopped down on the examination table beside her and started to dig around the pockets of his parka. With growing confusion Hermione watched as he produced a bright red lollipop from one pocket. Looking quite satisfied with himself, Sirius offered her the candy. Hermione awkwardly accepted the lollipop.

"What?" Sirius exclaimed as he took in Hermione's bewilderment. "Dear Merlin, don't you know? You need to get a lollipop at the end of a doctor's visit or the medicine's not gonna work." He threw a reproachful look at Pucey. "I told you that before."

The werewolf rolled his eyes, obviously used to Sirius' exuberant behaviour. "And I told  _you_  that you're ridiculous."

Sirius grasped his chest in mock indignation. Hermione pulled the wrapper from the lollipop and sucked at it contently while she watched the two men bicker. The grin on Sirius' face dimmed as his gaze wandered over her. Cocking a concerned eyebrow at Pucey, he inquired,

"So? How's my witchy woman?"

"She's fine under the circumstances. A bit banged up, but nothing drastic."

"Good," Sirius breathed in relief. Then he glanced at Hermione. "How about we get you some clothes and then we celebrate your safe return. I think we still have a few bottles Firewhiskey." He threw a look at Pucey and allowed, "You can come, too, if you must."

"Why, thank you. How generous," Pucey returned dryly.

†

"No. No, that won't do at all."

Sirius scanned Hermione through narrowed eyes, fastidious look on his face. Hermione looked down at herself. Sirius had dragged her and Lupin to the barracks' uniform storage.

"I don't know what you mean," she told the man. "This is a good, sturdy fabric. Nicely warm, too."

She ran her hands over the black combat trousers. It felt so good to be rid of that dress. The best part was the shirt, though. Hermione grinned as she looked down at the long, black sleeves that hugged her arms. The Dark Mark was no longer visible.

"Urg." Sirius grimaced. "Now you look like one of  _them_."

He threw his thumb at Lupin and scrunched his nose at the werewolf's black uniform. Lupin rolled his eyes at his friend.

"What'd you expect we'll find here?"

"Dunno," Sirius said while he dug around a shelf with black berets and wand holsters. "Something more… colourful?"

Lupin sighed in exasperation. "Did you ever  _look_  at the Corps' uniforms?"

Hermione was still very happy with her new clothes. "Better than the dress."

"A potato sack would've been better than that," Sirius lectured.

He abandoned his search and stepped over to her, contemplative look on his face. Then he pulled his wand from the back pocket of his distressed jeans.

"Here, let me try something," he said and already waved his wand.

Hermione watched with raised eyebrows as her new top changed colour from black to baby blue. Then a brown cartoon dog appeared on the front of the shirt, complete with large puppy eyes and bone in its mouth. A wide smile split Sirius' face.

"Much better."

Hermione chuckled softly. Lupin just sceptically scanned the shirt. Then he exchanged an amused look with Hermione.

"Okay." Sirius enthusiastically clapped his hands. "Now who's up for a drink?"

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom had curled up on his bed and had no intention of getting up any time soon. The sun was setting, painting the Head Boy's room in blood red colours. He squeezed his eyes closed and curled up in an even tighter ball. He felt sick.

_Sick. sick. SICK._

He needed time to think …or  _not_  think. He was undecided as of now. Hermione was gone. She had left. Just like that. And Tom couldn't, for the life of him, understand why he felt so sick. Wasn't it good that she was away from Hogwarts? Hermione knew too much. Now she couldn't meddle anymore. He'd already lost Slytherin's Locket because of her. With Hermione gone Tom's plans could unfold undisturbed. He should celebrate her departure. Instead a sick, tight feeling wound around his chest.

' _I don't need you anymore.'_

Hermione was such a damn liar. Of course she needed him. He was her  _Master_. He was everything and she nothing. A helpless Mudblood. Why her nothingness now ached, Tom didn't understand. He breathed in deeply and rubbed a weary hand over his face.

Why? Why would Hermionego with Sirius Black?! Tom's magic shuddered as he wondered what she was doing with the man. No, no.  _No!_  Tom should have locked Hermione away, so no-one would get their filthy paws all over her. He remembered how Black had held Hermione close, arm wrapped around her waist as if he owned her. And Lupin had tried to  _protect_  her. She'd always had a disgusting liking for the man. Tom should have prevented that. He should have been a lot stricter with Hermione and maybe she wouldn't have dared to run away.

…but it was good for Tom's plans that she was gone, wasn't it?

He took in a deep breath of air and forced his spinning thoughts back on track. As long as Hermione kept out of his way, it didn't matter what she was up to …even if she ended up in bed with both men. A tremble ran through Tom at the thought, but he ignored it.  _It doesn't matter!_  Hermione was useless anyway. He should have ripped the Mudblood apart as soon as she destroyed Slytherin's Locket. No, even before that. As Hermione had dared to duel him and challenge his dominance, Tom should have cut her down, leaving no doubt of who was in charge.

His magic sung in approval of his bloodthirsty thoughts, but instead of doing anything Tom just pulled a pillow over his head. This was pathetic. How dare a dirty Mudblood reduce him to this?

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"You need another one," Sirius laughed loudly.

He refilled the shot glass with Firewhiskey and slid it over to Hermione. Grinning widely, she accepted the glass.

"Thanks."

Hermione comfortably sat at one of the tables in the rec room. The room was filled with every member of Greyback's pack. Some of the werewolves were sitting at the tables, chatting and laughing. Others were dancing wildly to the music blaring from a wireless; though occasionally it looked more like a brawl.

Hermione, for one, was completely enjoying herself. Sirius now drunkenly sung along the music while Lupin was busy recounting the story of Hermione's rescue to a circle of werewolves that hung from his lips. By now he had added two dragons to the tale and apparently Hermione had been wearing some kind of knight's armour. A smile curled her lips.

"I think he really enjoyed seeing old Hoggy Warty again," a voice laughed.

Hermione looked up. A woman had slid into the seat beside her. She was quite pretty and sported a large smile on her face as she looked at Lupin. Her short hair was the most spectacular bubble-gum pink colour.

The woman grinned at Hermione. "Tonks is the name. Nice to meet you."

"Hello. I'm Hermione."

"Yeah, I know," Tonks chuckled. "Remus told me all about you."

"Yup," Sirius butted in. He wrapped an arm around the woman and sung teasingly, "Tonks here is Lupin's little  _girlfriend_."

Tonks rolled her eyes at the man and, still grinning, wagged a finger at him. "Down boy."

Sirius threw up his arms and exclaimed dramatically, "When will you people  _learn_? I'm not a  _dog_."

Tonks laughed and poured him another Firewhiskey. Thus appeased, Sirius placed a kiss on Tonks' cheek before he shakily got up to disappear in direction of the makeshift dancefloor.

"I'm glad the boys could get you out." Tonks scanned Hermione worriedly. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Hermione shook her head, moved by the woman's concern. "I'm alright. No-one really noticed me slipping away… well, aside from Tom, but Lupin wouldn't let him stop me."

Tonks cocked a pink eyebrow. "Tom?"

Hermione hesitated shortly. Tom wasn't a topic she was very keen on talking about. Her gaze dropped down to the glass in her hand and she mumbled,

"He's my master."

Tonks' clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Not your master anymore."

Hermione peered at her. An encouraging smile brightened Tonks' face. "Whoever that Tom person is, he's not your master anymore. You're your own master."

A smile timidly tugged at the corners of Hermione mouth. "You're right. Thank you."

Tonks raised her glass to Hermione before taking a swig. Hermione took in a deep breath of air and decided to pull the conversation away from Tom,

"Are you a werewolf too?"

"Nah, not a wolf." Tonks laughed. "All that howling at the moon isn't really my thing."

The mirth then drained from her face to be replaced by a strangely guilty expression. Tonks hesitated before she admitted reluctantly,

"Actually… I'm a Snatcher."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath of air and flinched violently. Tonks was working for  _Umbridge_?! She stared at the woman with wide eyes, panic mounting up.

"Don't worry," Tonks soothed. "I'm with the Order. The Snatcher thing is an undercover job."

Hermione worried her lower lip as she watched Tonks suspiciously. The woman smiled at her sadly. "I was actually an Auror. Then I got the offer from the Snatchers' office. I didn't want to do it …but we thought it would be a good opportunity, you know, to get inside information."

"I see…"

Hermione swallowed thickly as her thoughts wandered to the first Snatchers she had ever met. They had murdered her parents and dragged her away to be sold to the Malfoys.

"I'm sorry." A haunted look crossed Tonks' face. "Believe me, I  _hate_  that job."

"Did it work?" Hermione inquired carefully. "Did you get useful information out of it?"

A small smile appeared on Tonks' face. "Yes. Just last month, I stole the coordinates to three holding centres for Muggleborns. Sirius managed to break open two of them."

Hermione returned the smile. "Then it's worth it, isn't it?"

†

It was some time and a few more glasses of Firewhiskey later and Hermione was slouched in her seat, yawning tiredly.

"Hermione?"

She turned around and found Greyback standing behind her chair.

"Come on," he ordered gruffly. "Ya had enough."

He sneered at Lupin who half-lay over the table, trying to nip from his bottle of beer. Sirius was sprawled in his chair, head lolled back, and snored loudly.

"Some guardians," Greyback sneered disdainfully.

He grabbed Hermione by the arm, sharp claws scratching over her shirt, and pulled her up. Hermione tiredly followed the man. They left the main building and Greyback aimed for one of the smaller barracks. The cold night air managed to wake her up a bit. Scanning the werewolf, Hermione asked,

"Why are you helping the Order?"

Greyback didn't seem to be all that surprised by the question. He rubbed his chin and replied, "Black's quite the convincing bastard. Also, I got nothing better ter do."

Hermione nodded pensively and followed him into the barrack. "So the Corps is siding with the Order?"

"Yes and no…" was Greyback's cryptic reply.

At her raised eyebrows he shrugged dismissively. "'s politics, innit? At the moment, the Corps can't openly take the Order's side. We got too many connections into the Ministry. High Command can't just go and declare war on the wizards."

He almost looked a bit disappointed there. Hermione pursed her lips. She'd only ever seen Greyback's barracks. "How many werewolf bases are there?"

"On British soil?" Greyback cocked an eyebrow at her, dangerous grin revealing his sharp yellow fangs. "A few. And just like me, their pack leaders all report to Ben More High Command."

Hermione looked up at the werewolf, listening attentively. She doubted a lot of people outside of the Corps knew much about its command structure.

"So…" she asked cautiously. "Does anyone else know about Sirius and the Order being here?"

"Officially? Nah." Greyback laughed loudly. "As I said High Command can't be associated with the Order of the Phoenix. Inofficially? They're in the know. But so far General of the Corps Woodcroft hasn't ripped my head off, so I guess it's okay."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Woodcroft?"

Greyback nodded at her. "General Woodcroft's the commander-in-chief of the whole Corps. As I'm the pack leader of the Galloway pack, she's the alpha of every pack leader in the Corps."

"I see." Hermione nodded. "So, you're allowing Sirius to stay. General Woodcroft is okay with that, but can't support you. At least not officially."

"Yes, ma'am." Greyback grinned. "I guess that's what they call plausible deniability. If anything goes south, High Command can wash their hands of it."

Hermione furrowed her brow, mulling this new information over. Blindly, she followed the pack leader through a hallway until Greyback stopped and announced,

"Here we are."

Hermione looked up and watched as the man opened one of many identical grey doors in the corridor.

"And this," he said. "is yer room."

Hermione stepped in, eyes wide. There was a cot pushed against one wall, a grey blanket lay folded in military precision on the mattress. A small table with chair stood under the only window and a metal locker right beside it. Greyback leaned against the door frame and watched her through his steel-blue eyes.

"What?" he inquired in his rough voice. "Not to your taste, your Highness?"

Hermione hastily shook her head and stuttered, "No, It's great. I- I never had my own room." She gazed up at the werewolf and smiled. "Thank you."

Greyback furrowed his brow. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like yer an easy customer if yer grateful for this shithole."

Hermione stepped over to the bed and ran her fingers over the blanket. She felt giddy to have a bed of her own again. At Hogwarts there hadn't been enough cots for every Muggleborn, so they'd had to sleep in shifts.

"Latrines're down the corridor," Greyback explained indifferently. "Ya only have ter follow the stench."

Hermione sat down on the bed, testing the mattress. She threw a wide grin at the werewolf. "Okay."

Greyback ruffled his shaggy hair and decided gruffly, "Well, I'm off. Time ter get a bit of shut-eye." Before he left the room he added over his shoulder, "If ya need anything, don't come to me. Can't be arsed."

Then the door snapped shut behind him. Hermione still smiled widely and called after him, "Good night."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom hadn't seen Hermione since she'd left three days ago and whatever he tried he still acutely felt her absence. He simply couldn't stop thinking about his Mudblood.

Tom curled his lips into a disgusted sneer. Was Hermione's nearness really something he coveted? Despite her betrayal, Tom still found himself wanting to touch her, kiss her. What he certainly didn't want to hear was that she ' _didn't need him anymore.'_ Her cold words relentlessly clawed at his mind and he couldn't shake them off. It made him feel weak…  _inadequate_.

Angrily, Tom gritted his teeth and looked up at the domed ceiling of the Chamber of Secrets, but not even his ancestor's halls managed to calm him. He felt restless. He probably wouldn't experience this strange ache if Hermione was still with him.

"M- my Lord," a trembling voice interrupted his thoughts.

Tom's cold gaze wandered over the Black boy kneeling in front of him. Regulus Black had his head bent in a submissive gesture as he grovelled on the floor. A sadistic smirk twisted Tom's lips. Black had started the whole thing with the letter that had ultimately driven Hermione away. So Black would also be the one to help Tom put things right.

"I have an important mission for you, Black."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **I shall not see the shadows,**

**I shall not feel the rain;**

**I shall not hear the nightingale**

**Sing on, as if in pain:**

**And dreaming through the twilight**

**That doth not rise nor set,**

**Haply I may remember,**

**And haply may forget.'**

**\- Christina Georgina Rossetti**

**(*1830 † 1894)**


	35. Nooses give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, guys, I finished a new chapter :D And I'm gonna start with a WARNING right at the start: there's blood and gore in this chapter and graphic descriptions thereof. So, readers discretion is advised.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this new chapter. And as always, let me know what you think ^^ THANK YOU for the kudos! And special thanks to you reviewers: GracieRose, Shamelessly_Radiant and FreyaFallen XDDD

The sky was deep blue with white fluffy clouds peacefully drifting in the wind. Swallows were acrobatically soaring through the air, hunting for insects. Hermione lay on her back on the soft grass, curly hair splayed around her head. Her right hand rested on a thick book she had placed beside her.

Her tranquil moment was interrupted as someone sat down beside her. Hermione didn't turn but continued to look at the sky. Her companion kept the silence. It was after a stretch of silence that she said,

"You never told me about your girlfriend."

Her companion chuckled hoarsely. "You never asked."

"True." A grin stretched her lips.

Hermione glanced at her companion. Lupin sat beside her on the grass, smug look on his face.

"She's nice."

The smirk on Lupin's face turned into a genuine smile. "I know."

"The only thing I didn't like about her is her job."

A weary sigh left the werewolf. He pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket and lit one. "You and me both. I  _begged_  her not to do it. A Snatcher? Really? If they ever find out she's working for the Order…"

Lupin shuddered and took a deep drag from his cigarette. Hermione sat up and eyed him in concern. "I think she can handle it. She's strong."

The werewolf threw her a small smile. "That she is."

Hermione's smile turned into a grin as she quipped, "I mean she has to be if she's  _your_  girlfriend."

Lupin laughed loudly and nudged Hermione. "You've spent too much time with Sirius."

She giggled. "What's her first name anyway? She only ever told me the family name. Tonks?"

Lupin tapped the ash off his cigarette and peered at Hermione's through the corners of his eyes. Innocently, he mused, "She didn't tell you, did she?"

As Hermione shook her head, he leaned over to her and whispered as if disclosing a big secret, "Her name's Nymphadora."

"Nymphadora?" Hermione tested the odd name on her tongue.

"Yeah. She hates it." Lupin laughed. "I find it adorable."

Hermione threw him a grin. She leaned on her arms and let her head fall back. For a moment she enjoyed the sun in her face. It was nice sitting here with Lupin. After a while, Hermione spoke up again,

"You know, I've been thinking..."

"I was afraid you might," Lupin teased gently.

"The first time I met Sirius, he asked me something."

As Lupin replied all jest was gone from his quite voice, "I'm sure he did."

Hermione turned her head and glanced at the werewolf. Lupin's strange yellow eyes were observing her. There was something akin to worry swirling in them.

"I've stalled long enough," she said quietly.

A deep sigh left Lupin. He took another drag from his cigarette. Puffs of smoke floated up towards the blue sky. Hermione watched the tendrils disappear.

"It's dangerous," Lupin eventually remarked.

"I know."

A sad smile pulled at Lupin's mouth as he looked at her. "I know where you come from, Hermione. I've seen hints of what you had to endure. It makes me want to rip them apart. But you…" He extended a hand to gingerly curl his fingers around her wrist. "You deserve happiness. Safety. We have ways to protect you. I can smuggle you out of the country. You'll disappear so thoroughly, no-one could find you."

Voice soft, Hermione questioned, "Tom?"

"No-one," Lupin repeated firmly. "You'd be taken care of. I promise. No-one would ever hurt you again."

She smiled. "That sounds nice."

Hermione skidded closer to Lupin and allowed him to pull her against his side. It felt nice to lean against him with his arm around her. Protected. She put her head against his chest. The coarse fabric of his uniform shirt felt scratchy and wonderful against her cheek. Her voice was no more than a whisper as she told him what she'd known all along,

"I can't leave."

Lupin didn't immediately reply. Only his arm tightened around her. He didn't seem surprised, though. Dejection leaked through his voice as he rasped,

"I had to try."

Hermione chuckled softly. "Thank you."

She sat up, ending the embrace. Lupin's arm slipped from her and she acutely felt his absence. Still, her voice was steady and controlled as she said,

"I'm going to join the Order."

Lupin scanned her, glum look on his tanned face. Still a slight smirk curved his lips as he observed, "I should've known. You're too stubborn for your own good."

"Definitely," Hermione sassed. Graveness seeped back into her voice as she continued, "I can't pack up and go. I just can't leave it like this."

"I understand," Lupin hummed. "Believe me, I do."

"They killed my parents," Hermione whispered and her magic wobbled around her in agitation. "Since then… I had no idea. I thought it was normal, you know, how they treated me. I never questioned them." She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I didn't realise that I'm a  _person_."

"But you do now. They didn't win," Lupin noted carefully. "Why not leave this mess behind?"

"I'd love to, but I simply  _can't_. It scares me." Hermione threw him a small smile. "Whatever happens from here on out, they can't ever turn me back into that  _thing_. So, it's okay."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"I know you're nervous," Sirius said.

Hermione timidly glanced up at the man. The Order's leader grinned at her, mischievous glint in his eyes. "You can always take a leaf out of Greyback's book and just bite them."

Lupin, standing at Hermione's other side, tried to calm her, "Don't worry. They're all really nice people." He squinted his eyes pensively. "Well,  _some_  might also be crazy. So…"

The werewolf shrugged his shoulders while a grin worked its way on his face. Sirius began to giggle. Hermione rolled her eyes at both of them. As Lupin moved to open the door, though, her nervousness rushed back to her. Sirius gave her hand a gentle squeeze and this time his voice was reassuring,

"It's gonna be alright."

Gingerly, he pulled her into the room and Hermione followed reluctantly. A large table dominated the room while a huge military map covered one wall, showing the British Islands. A bout of anxiety hit Hermione hard as she stared at the people sitting at the table. The members of the Order of the Phoenix eyed her with growing interest. Feeling insecure under their curious gazes, Hermione shuffled closer to Sirius. At least there was one familiar face. Tonks waved at Hermione, grinning widely. Hermione tried to return the smile but only managed a twitchy grimace.

"I know you've all been dying to meet her," Sirius addressed the Order members, big smile on his face. "And finally I can introduce you to Hermione." He put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, meet the Order of the Phoenix."

The Order members murmured their welcome while Hermione, still feeling quite tense, only managed a flustered, "H- hello."

"I'm afraid not everyone could make it today. It's always a bit risky to meet," Sirius told her. "But anyways, here are Molly and Arthur Weasley."

He gestured at a man and woman sitting at the table. Hermione felt a bit better as they smiled at her kindly. Both were probably in their early fifties and had strikingly red hair that was quite familiar to Hermione. Shyly, she asked,

"I know a Ginny and Ron Weasley. Are you related?"

"Yes, dear." Mrs Weasley beamed. "They're our children."

Mr Weasley nodded and supplied amiably, "Ginny's our youngest. Last one to Hogwarts."

"Perfect." Sirius wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "It's like you already know each other."

With that he turned to a skinny woman sitting beside Mr Weasley. Her neat black robes, stiff countenance and sharp features gave her a rather stern look as she observed Hermione through thick glasses.

"Here we have Alice Longbottom," Sirius said. "Alice works at the Wizengamot. Could provide us with invaluable information in the past."

Longbottom's frosty eyes never strayed from Hermione as she replied in a controlled voice, "Really, Sirius. You exaggerate."

Sirius laughed and whispered to Hermione, "She's just modest."

He then gestured to an imposing looking man. He seemed to be rather brawny with broad shoulders. A tiny gold hoop glinted at his ear. His face, though, gave nothing away, covered by a veneer of detachment.

"This is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Sirius introduced. "He's a high-ranking official at the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Shacklebolt stood and offered Hermione his hand. Cautiously, she shook it. Cool politeness laced his deep voice as Shacklebolt said, "It's a pleasure meeting you."

After this, Sirius turned to the last person. Leaned against the window sill, the man struck quite the terrifying figure with the many scars on his face that had warped his expression into a permanent scowl. His left eye was missing, to be replaced by a wildly whirring artificial one.

"Meet Alastor Moody," Sirius said. "He's an Auror and was Lupin's and my instructor."

"Hermione, is it?" Moody growled, eyeing her in distrust.

Timidly, Hermione nodded. The man didn't reply but walked towards her, his artificial eye rolling wildly as he glared at her in suspicion.

"Now, ' _Hermione'_ , how do we know you're not a spy?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up and she spluttered, "I… I'm not?"

"A likely story," Moody barked, making her jump.

Thankfully, Tonks butted in, "Hermione's certainly not a spy, Sir,"

Moody's creepy eye landed on her and he snapped, "You don't have to call me 'Sir'. I'm not your superior anymore."

Tonks rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation, "When're you going to let that go?"

"You've deserted the Aurors," Moody accused hotly.

Anger smouldering in her eyes, Tonks opened her mouth to snap something in return. Before she could lacerate Moody, Lupin stepped in. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he soothed, "Now now, there's no need to jump at each other's throats."

Moody crossed his arms in front of his chest and harrumphed, "We're not a knitting circle where people just join willy-nilly."

"It wasn't  _willy-nilly_ ," Sirius clarified sharply. " _I_  invited Hermione."

"She needs to be interrogated," Moody huffed.

Hermione's eyes widened anxiously. Interrogate her?!

"Can't you see you're frightening her?" Mrs Weasley scolded Moody. She turned to Hermione and said kindly, "Why don't we all sit down and get to know each other."

"Good idea," Sirius exclaimed and pulled Hermione towards the table.

Knees shaky, she was glad to plop down on one of the chairs. Thankfully, Sirius and Lupin sat by her sides. Mrs Weasley poured a cup of tea from a large pot and pushed it in front of Hermione.

"Camomile, dear."

"T- thank you."

Hermione fiddled with the cup, glad to be able to do something. Moody was still glaring at her, but it was Alice Longbottom who spoke next. Voice chilly, she suggested, "Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself? Where do you come from? How'd you end up at Hogwarts?"

Hermione glanced at the intimidating woman and nodded. In a soft voice, she began to tell her story. She took them from her first encounter with the Snatchers as she had been a young girl, to her time at Malfoy manor and finally to her transformation into Hermione Rookwood, the Pureblood witch.

"How did you get the necessary papers?" Shacklebolt inquired in his calm voice. "That's not an easy task."

"I didn't get them myself," Hermione replied. "My Mast- my  _former_  Master somehow acquired them. He also gave me the Polyjuice."

Shacklebolt nodded pensively. Moody bent a bit closer to Hermione and eyed her with interest. He had forgotten all about his previous distrust towards her but inquired,

"What's his name again? Tom Riddle?"

Hermione nodded awkwardly. Moody pursed his lips. "Sounds like a capable fellow."

It was Lupin who replied. Through clenched teeth, he fumed, "That little shit tried to hurt Hermione."

"Riddle's a right prick," Sirius hissed angrily.

"Yes yes, of course," Moody agreed. "Doesn't change the fact that he's got some talent. Potentially dangerous." He threw a meaningful look at Hermione. "You need to be vigilant. You're still connected with Riddle."

Hermione swallowed thickly and her hand wandered to her Dark Mark hidden underneath her sleeve. Shakily, she nodded at Moody.

"But Hermione's safe here," Mr Weasley's voice cut through the glum atmosphere. "Right?"

Lupin instantly nodded. He ran a hand over Hermione's arm and soothed, "Yes. The wards around Corps' territory are impenetrable. Don't worry."

"You don't need to be afraid of the likes of  _Riddle_." Sirius sneered. A proud glint shone in his eyes. "You're much better than him. Look at you. You managed to become a powerful witch even under shitty circumstances. And you lived at Hogwarts for months as a student and no-one noticed you're Muggleborn. You don't even know how extraordinary that is."

"Indeed. Sirius is right," Shacklebolt agreed, slight smile on his face. "You're quite the addition to our team."

All the Order members nodded. Even Moody seemed to agree if his happily whirring eye was any indication. Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise and a warm feeling bubbled up in her stomach.

"Thank you."

She could barely believe that they had already accepted her. The warm feeling stayed with Hermione as the conversation veered away from her past and the Order members discussed their latest missions. She smiled happily and sipped from her tea.

"Did you hear anything new?" Longbottom's voice pulled Hermione back into the conversation. "They must have opened new holding centres."

"No," Tonks replied gloomily. "Nothing after we busted the centre in Hackney."

"It's been weeks," Sirius groaned and rubbed an agitated hand through his hair. "I need to  _do_  something."

"What do you mean?" Hermione arched her eyebrows in question.

"We haven't been able to get any intel on holding centres for Muggleborns," Lupin explained. "The Snatchers are on high alert since we've been quite active lately."

Sirius threw his arms up in exasperation. "Umbridge's probably already celebrating her triumph. We need something big."

Hermione's thoughts raced while the others continued their discussion. There was something that had bothered her greatly, but she'd never thought she could change anything.  _Until now_. Cautiously, Hermione glanced at Sirius who still moped. Maybe… maybe now she  _could_  do something.

"I have an idea," said Hermione.

Sirius perked up. "Merlin, I hope you do."

"What about the Muggleborns at Hogwarts?"

Sirius' brow furrowed. "What about them?"

"There're at least a hundred working in the kitchens," Hermione replied carefully. "Why don't we try to help them?"

At her suggestion, Lupin scanned her in upcoming concern. "I don't think that's such a great idea…"

"Hogwarts is high security," Longbottom pointed out. "It's too difficult a target."

"I know it's not easy." Hermione conceded. Still, she pushed on, "But it's not  _impossible_. I mean look at me. Sirius and Lupin got me out of Hogwarts."

Sirius groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "And now you wanna go back in?"

"Just think about it." Hermione's gaze wandered over the Order members. Conviction lacing her tone, she said, "We know that there're Muggleborns at Hogwarts and they need our help."

Shacklebolt considered her for a moment. "She's right on that. If we succeed, this would be a huge blow to the Ministry."

"You said it," Moody growled. " _If_  we succeed."

"Don't forget it's a school," Mrs Weasley said. "We need to be perfectly sure that none of the children would get hurt."

Longbottom nodded. "On top of that, we all know how unpredictable missions like this can be. What if the Muggleborns don't want to leave? Or won't trust us? Wouldn't be the first time this happened."

"I know them," Hermione interjected. "I can slip into Hogwarts and talk to them. If I can convince Dobby, the others will follow."

Moody pursed his lips in contemplation. His artificial eye no longer rolled wildly around but was focused on Hermione. He shrugged and admitted, "You know what? I'm kinda beginning to see it."

"Are you crazy?" Tonks shook her head at the man. "…Sir?"

Moody threw her a dark look which only made Tonks grin toothily. Sirius arched a sceptical eyebrow and said, "I'm not convinced. How would we get into Hogwarts? Portkey is out of the question. Not with the mass of people we need to move."

"And don't forget, security has been tightened around the castle," Lupin said in his raspy voice.

"Floo network?" Mr Weasley suggested.

"Nah." Sirius shrugged. "All blocked."

"The already existing ones, you mean," Moody noted. "If we open a new one though… Shacklebolt?"

Shacklebolt pensively rubbed his jaw. "It might be doable. There's a fireplace in the kitchens?" At Hermione's nod he continued, "I might be able to connect it to the floo. Maybe a fake ambassador's floo connection. They don't get monitored. No guarantees, though. It's not easy. And I'm gonna need some bribe money to get it done."

"And the other end?" Moody questioned. "Corps territory is off limits for the floo network."

Longbottom's eyes burned up with enthusiasm. "We could split up the floo from Hogwarts' kitchens to several different destinations. Old hide-outs. Every one of us watches one fireplace and as soon as the Muggleborns come through, we close the floo network. It's easier to get smaller groups out of the country."

"We need to get in touch with Bones," Mrs Weasley mused. "if we want to smuggle them over the border."

"Yes," Mr Weasley agreed with his wife. "Amelia needs to be on board."

"I can contact her." A big grin split Tonks' face. "I'm pretty sure she's in."

Hermione smiled as the Order members got more and more enthusiastic. Only Sirius and Lupin still looked unconvinced. Sirius eyed Hermione in concern. Reluctantly, he told her,

"You'd have to talk with the Muggleborns at Hogwarts alone. They won't trust anyone else. I don't like sending you back there."

Lupin nodded solemnly. "If they catch you, you're done for."

Hermione breathed in deeply. A small smile flittered over her face as she looked at her friends. Her voice, though, was unwavering as she replied, "I know. It's a risk. But Dobby doesn't deserve to be trapped there. None of them do. I can't abandon them. They're good people."

Seeing the determination on her face, Sirius cursed, "Damn. This is more than a little crazy. You know that right?"

Lupin sighed deeply. "And exactly the reason why you launched this whole Order business." He peered at Hermione and a sad smile curled his lips. "I know Hermione can do this."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

_Tom's cold gaze wandered over the Black boy kneeling in front of him. Regulus Black had his head bent in a submissive gesture as he grovelled on the floor. A sadistic smirk twisted Tom's lips._

" _I have an important mission for you, Black."_

Black looked up at him, fear barely hidden in his eyes. "W- whatever you command, I shall obey."

Tom laughed, a cruel sound from his lips. "I  _am_  glad you say that."

He intended to prove to Hermione that he wasn't  _inadequate_. Tom knew that as soon as she returned to him everything would go back to normal.

"You may have noticed," Tom whispered in his silky voice. "that Hermione is gone."

Worry flittered through Black's eyes. Bowing his head, he spluttered fearfully, "G- gone, My Lord?"

Tom's magic irately crackled in the air. What exactly did Black  _think_? That Tom had hurt Hermione? Done away with her? How ludicrous. He wanted her back after all.

"Yes. My girlfriend decided to leave the castle," like venom the words dripped from Tom's lips.

Black's shoulders sagged in relief. Malice lurking in his tone, Tom clarified, "Hermione is misguided. She needs to return to me. At my side, she'll be much safer. You understand, I'm sure."

"Of course, My Lord," Black hastily confirmed, grovelling before Tom.

It was a filthy lie. Black didn't agree at all. The coward probably thought Hermione was better off without Tom.

"This is where you come in." A vile smirk warped Tom's features. "You're going to assist me in retrieving her."

"My Lord," Black whispered sycophantically. "she's a Mudblood. Why lower yourself to the likes of her?"

A poor attempt at manipulation. Tom sneered at the other wizard, "It's none of your business  _why_  I want her back. You should be more concerned about the  _reason_  Hermione left. After all, wasn't it you who told her all about my plans? You scared her away."

Frantically, Black shook his head. "I- I didn't. I don't know a- anything! I swear!"

Tom laughed. "Don't play coy. I read the letter you wrote her." He widened his eyes in mock surprise. "The Founders' objects? My plan to create Horcruxes? I'm an open book to you, it seems."

"No, no!" Black insisted to cry and snivel. "I barely know anything. I don't really know what Horcruxes are. Please, My Lord."

"You are a liar, Regulus Black," Tom scorned harshly. "You know enough. Enough to send my girlfriend a letter to warn her about me."

"I was j- just concerned," Black assured in his panic.

"Of course you were," Tom cooed, vicious smirk curving his lips. "It's just unfortunate that your  _concern_  spooked Hermione. Now she's run away."

"I'm sorry," Black whimpered repulsively. "Please, My Lord, accept my sincerest apologies."

Tom laughed, the cold sound echoing eerily from the Chamber's walls. "I might just."

A hint of hope blossomed on Black's face and Tom took great pleasure in stamping it. He slashed his wand and a surprised cry fell from Black's mouth as he was hoisted up in the air. Another wave of Tom's wand and an altar rose from the stone floor of the Chamber. Black was slammed on the altar, ropes springing up to hold him in place. Tom stepped closer to the terrified wizard. In his panic, Black desperately tugged at his bindings.

"You were spot-on. With everything." A mad glint burned up in Tom's eyes. "I  _do_  plan to create a Horcrux. Actually, I'll create six."

Black's eyes widened in shock, an unpleasant mirror of Hermione's reaction. "S- six?!"

Tom observed the terror on Black's face and grinned. "You're probably wondering why I tell you…"

He leaned a bit closer and lazily raked his fingers through Black's short hair. A satisfied look crossed his face as Black cringed away from the touch.

"You're lucky, Regulus," Tom murmured. "You know why?"

Black stared at him with fear widened eyes. "N- no."

Tom's smirk widened. "You will be the first one. You will have the honour to die for me."

"No!" Black screamed, tugging desperately at his bonds. "No, Riddle, please! You can't do this."

Tom chuckled at the silly wizard. "Oh, but I can. I don't see why not. You'll be the fuel for my first Horcrux. Aside from that, you know too much. So I  _have_  to get rid of you anyway. This is what they call a win-win situation." An evil smirk pulled at his lips. "Well, for me at least. For you…? Not so much."

Black stared at him. His face had gone pale and Tom could see him trembling all over. Helplessly, Black lay before him, at his mercy, and Tom enjoyed the power he held over the other.

"You can't just kill me," Black cried in distress. "M- my family would do whatever they can to find my murderer… The Aurors. You'll never get away with this."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom replied loftily. "Of course I will."

Black shook his head and again ripped at his bonds. Tom cocked an eyebrow at his pointless struggles. He grinned cruelly as he crushed the other's hopes, "No-one ever found out about Longbottom, did they? And that was a messy job. Still, no-one ever came even close to me. Believe me, when little Regulus Black disappears, no-one will care and no-one will suspect Hogwarts' brilliant Head Boy. They won't ever find your body. They'll probably think you've joined your insane brother and his Order."

By now there were tears trickling from Black's eyes and Tom crinkled his nose in disgust. Black still thought he could bargain and stuttered fearfully, "What about Hermione? Sh- she'll notice. She's my friend; she won't forgive you for this. You want her back. D- don't you? She won't come back if you hurt me."

Tom's fingers tightened around his wand as a flash of doubt shot through him. Hermione  _had_  said Black was her friend. An angry frown worked its way on Tom's face but he pushed all doubts away. Hermione was smart. She'd understand. Sacrifices had to be made. It was the way to greatness.

"I'm doing this  _for_  her," Tom whispered, voice terse with anger. "She was scared the process of creating a Horcrux might hurt me or her. I should have reassured her, set her mind at ease. I failed at that." He breathed in deeply, forcing composure. "Not to worry, I'll make up for my mistake. I'll show Hermione that it's safe. I'll show her the Horcrux as proof and she'll return to me."

"This is crazy!" Black shrieked. "Hermione doesn't want this. You can't do this! She doesn't want a  _murderer_."

Tom clenched his jaw as he was hit by a jolt of anger at Black's continued lies. This was the right thing to do. Everything had gone down the drain since Hermione had found out about his plan. Tom would prove to her that immortality worked. Then she would return to him and stay with him.

_Forever._

"Please!" Black continued to sob. "Don't do this.  _Please_ , Riddle. Hermione is never going to accept this. You're wro-"

Tom brandished his wand. He'd had enough of this disgusting whining. A Silencing Charm now stretched around Black's vocal chords, rendering them useless. He sneered down at the tear tracks on Black's face.  _Pathetic_.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing." Tom hissed. "First, I need a few  _parts._  I hope you don't mind?"

Black's eyes widened in horror and a demented grin curved Tom's lips. With a wave of his wand, he summoned a few objects he had left in the Chamber in preparation to this. Tom carefully placed the silver goblet with the potion he'd already brewed beside Black's shoulder on the altar. The sharp dagger followed suit. Then Tom reached for the last object. A soft smile crossed his face as he looked down at the small black diary.

_Perfect._

Indifferently, Tom glanced at Black's panic-stricken face. "Now, let's see. I need a bit of blood. Nothing drastic, I assure you."

His index finger gently skimmed up Black's chest making the other flinch in fear. Tom chuckled eerily.

"Blood is life," he purred as he played with Black's tie. "Your blood's going to be the glue that holds the spell together. The other thing I need…" His lips bent into a twisted smirk and he laughed. "I apologize, but it's a bit corny. Don't blame me, though. I didn't make up the spell. But we are doing soul magic here and I hear they  _are_  the windows to our souls. So…"

Black's stared at him in delicious horror. He struggled against his bonds in another futile attempt to escape.

"I see you understand," Tom hummed as he ran a finger over Black's face, right below his eye. "Don't worry. It's not like you'll be needing your eyes for much longer anyway."

Black opened his mouth in a scream, but his panic couldn't get past Tom's Silencing Charm. Tom shook his head at the weak wizard. "The spell's a bit… hm,  _old-fashioned_ , you see. So, I can't use any magic to gouge out your eyes. We'll make do with this."

He raised the dagger, sharp blade glinting in the dim light. The look on Black's face was hilarious and Tom grinned down at the frightened boy. He reached for Black's arm and rolled up the sleeve of his uniform robe. Black's arm was still bound by the ropes and his pale flesh lay before Tom, quite vulnerable. Tom's fingers flexed around the knife's handle in anticipation. Then he raised the blade to Black's wrist and cut.

"I don't want to cut too deep," Tom whispered softly. "Don't want you to die too soon. That'd ruin the potion."

Dark red blood flowed from the deep wound. Quickly Tom reached for the goblet and collected some of the blood. The potion hissed dangerously as the blood dissolved. Tom glanced up at Black and smirked.

"I suppose that was the easy step."

Tom straightened up and carefully placed the goblet on the altar. Then he again reached for the dagger. Coldly ignoring Black's panic, Tom leaned over him and raised the dagger to the other's face. Black squirmed in his bonds, throwing his head from side to side. Tom sighed. This would be a lot easier if he could use magic. He needed to keep Black still or this would never work. Deftly, Tom slid on the altar and straddled Black with his knees on either side of the other's hips. He grinned down at his victim.

"Well, look at us," Tom whispered teasingly as he hovered over Black, faces only inches apart. "This almost got a bit  _romantic_ , didn't it?"

Black stared at him in shock and disgust. He screamed but only muffled sounds escaped through the Silencing Charm. Tom laughed coldly. Black bucked his hips to wiggle away, only managing to bump into Tom's groin.

"Hm, you like this?" Tom whispered, seductive tinge to his voice. "If only you'd told me sooner. We could have had so much  _fun_. You and I." A smirk spread over his mouth. "But you're right I owe you a little fare-well present."

Tom wound his fingers into the other wizard's short hair to harshly force his head into place. Then he bent down and pressed his lips against Black's unwilling mouth. As he ended the kiss, Tom smirked at the other's disgust.

"Mm, that wasn't even half bad." Cruelly, Tom rubbed himself against Black. "Maybe I could get into this."

Black frantically shook his head, fear distorting his features. Tom felt immensely amused by the wizard's panic. He raised the knife and said, "Unfortunately, we're on a tight schedule. So, on with it. Chop-chop." He laughed cruelly. "Excuse the pun."

Again Tom grabbed Black's hair to hold him in place. This time not his lips descended for a kiss but his knife. Black's mouth was opened in a silent scream. Tom didn't care. In fascination he watched as the blade cut into the eyelid and deeper, scratching over the orbital bone. There was less blood than he'd expected. Tom's fingers tightened around Black's hair as the other began to spasm. He angled the knife's blade to be able to peel all the muscle from the bone.

"You know, pain is a sacrifice, too," Tom murmured as he cut. "It's your own fault. You shouldn't have befriended Hermione and you definitely shouldn't have written her that letter. It ruined everything. But don't worry. You're repaying me now and all is forgiven."

Finally he could completely detach the eye from all surrounding tissue. Tom smirked. He'd been afraid he'd accidentally cut too deep, thus killing Black which would've ruined the process. As it turned out that wasn't even possible. Tom used the flat side of the dagger to lever the eyeball from its bony cavity. With his newly gained experience, he turned to the other eye. Tremors ran through Black's limp body, but he was too weak to continue fighting. Grinning maniacally, Tom removed the other eye. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he slid from the altar. Through all this, Black was miraculously still conscious. Tom was surprised. By now there was quite a bit of blood pouring from the empty eye sockets. Still Black was stirring weakly, muffled whimpers falling from his lips.

"You're still with me?" Tom asked, mildly interested.

His only reply was another shaky breath from Black.

"All the better." Tom grinned. "I do like an audience."

He slid the eyes into the goblet and watched as they were etched away by the potion. Then Tom reached for his wand. The potion had been rather challenging, but the spells around a Horcrux were actually not very complicated. He supposed they came from an easier time when actions spoke louder than words. What the spells required, though, was powerful magic backing them up. Not many would be able to do this kind of magic.

Tom raised his wand over the goblet and summoned his magic. He could feel it flowing through his body, a tidal wave that rushed towards his wand. He needed all of it to boost the potion. Tom's eyes slid shut as he concentrated. More of his magic welled up. The dark force crackled in the air and Tom felt it greedily licking over his skin. Deeper he went to wake all his magic.

Tom's grip on his wand tightened as his magic ripped at him viciously. The force was hard to control as it thirsted for nothing but destruction. Tom opened his eyes and stared down at the goblet. In small, precise movements he brandished his wand. As if a floodgate had been opened, his magic plunged into the potion.

Tom groaned as more and more magic left him. A light-headed, dizzy feeling overcame him but he still directed the current of magic into the potion. Black dots began to dance in his vision and the wand in his hand shook violently. A sharp pain shot through him as the last rest of his magic was siphoned into the potion. Breathing heavily, Tom ended the spell. Weakly he leaned against the altar to catch his breath. The goblet was glowing in a bright light. Tom smirked down at the concoction. It had worked. He wished Hermione was here to see it.

Sadly, Tom's only companion was Regulus Black. Derogatory look on his face, Tom sneered down at his victim. Black was deathly pale, breathing shallow, but still conscious enough to weakly struggle in his bindings. An unsavoury smirk crept on Tom's face.

"I haven't even told you the best thing," he whispered coldly. "As soon as I've got Hermione back, I'll turn her into one of my Horcruxes."

As much as he was able, Black recoiled in shock. Tom chuckled in sick amusement. Black's hands balled into angry fists, causing more blood to flow from the cut at his wrist. Tom opened his mouth and cruel scorn danced off his tongue,

"You can die in peace, knowing that you achieved nothing."

Tom smiled a terrible smile and reached for the goblet. Carefully, he poured half of the potion over the empty pages of the black diary. It sizzled and steamed and then the potion was sucked into the small book, leaving nothing behind. Tom glanced at Black and said,

"Now I'm going to drink the potion. And believe me, I'm not looking forward to ingesting all the blood and that gunk from your eyes." He shrugged. "Well, we all have to make some sacrifices, eh?"

Black groaned as he weakly fought against his bonds. Tom laughed insanely and continued, "Then I'll take my dagger and slice your throat. And after that, I'm going to sit here and watch you bleed to death." He raised the goblet to Black and grinned evilly. "Cheers."

It tasted horrible and wonderful. The pungent taste made Tom want to gag. The dark magic saturating the potion made him want to gulp down everything all at once.

The taste of blood in his mouth, Tom reached for the dagger. He felt sick and more powerful than he ever had before.

Once again he slid on the stone altar so he could bend over Black. He already looked like death with the empty sockets of a skull staring at Tom.

Tom raised the dagger and pressed it against Black's throat. He closed his eyes and a blissful smile touched his lips as he felt the sharp blade sink into skin. Black's body tensed and Tom could feel how his knife sliced deeper. He opened his eyes and looked down. He was entranced by the silvery glint of his dagger as it moved through a sea of red, parting it at his command. Tom's smile widened contently as more and more blood flowed. The Silencing Charm was destroyed and gargling sounds left Black. His body started to seize in the throes of death.

Blood poured from the wound in waves. It seeped into Black's white uniform shirt and stuck to Tom's fingers; it dripped on the stone altar, building a glistening pool. Tom could even feel the sticky liquid soak into the knees of his trousers where he knelt on the altar.

Then the flow of blood slowed down. Where it was not painted red by the blood, Black's skin was completely white. His body stopped twitching and soon he became still. Tom stared down at him, transfixed by the sight. There was a moment of peace as Black lay between life and death. Tom breathed in deeply, enjoying the heavy tang of the blood in the air and the feeling of the lifeless body beneath him.

Black's death, his final breath, would have gone unnoticed, had it not been accompanied by an explosion of magic. The magic surged into Tom and wrecked through his body like he was struck by lightning. He threw his head back, a scream tearing from his lips. His whole body burned. Invisible flames of magic engulfed him, consumed him and carried him away. He struggled for breath, whimpers of pain leaving his mouth. All his strength leaving him, Tom slipped from Black's body and fell from the altar down to the stone floor. He curled into a tight ball and desperately wrapped his arms around himself. He wanted to hold himself together as the magic mercilessly tore him apart. A shudder ran through him and he could feel how something gave way under the magic's onslaught. It hurt. So much. Hurt and hurt and hurt.

Tom trembled violently as another wave of unbearable pain flashed through him. A desperate scream tore from his mouth. Pain was now everything. The only thing. It ripped at him, wrenched and tried to split him in two. Tom whimpered as every nerve ending was on fire. Agony engulfed him so completely he could barely breathe anymore. He felt how a part of him was slowly being ripped away.

A precious part, a useless part. A part of him.

Tom felt it pulling away from him and the pain receded. Instead he felt numb. A numbness that spread through his whole body. It was worse than the pain and Tom could feel how that part was completely ripped from his body, cruelly cut away from his flesh. An agonized scream left him as that part of him broke free. All connections were severed and a gaping hole was left behind. Burning hot, regret crashed down on him. In a flash that feeling, too, was gone. The hole stayed. It didn't hurt. It didn't  _feel_ either.

It was nothing.

Tears were flowing down Tom's cheeks as he opened his eyes. He trembled uncontrollably but could recognize the Diary lying on the floor. It burned up in an eerily green light and vibrated violently. After a moment it calmed down, the light disappeared and the book just lay there innocently.

Tom shakily sat up on the floor and stared at the black Diary. The pain was completely gone. Not even a shadow remained. There were tears on his face and Tom wiped them away. He still stared at the black Diary like he was entranced by it.

His Horcrux.

Everything had worked like it should. His lips twisted up. The motion felt unnatural. A smile. Yet right.

It was worth it.

Hermione couldn't ignore this.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Razors pain you;**

**Rivers are damp;**

**Acids stain you;**

**And drugs cause cramp.**

**Guns aren't lawful;**

**Nooses give;**

**Gas smells awful;**

**You might as well live.'**

**\- Dorothy Parker**

**(*1893** **†** **1967)**


	36. I watched you Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally the next chapter is finished :D and there's a Tom/Hermione scene here. So there's that to look forward to. lol
> 
> This time, we won't have such extreme gore like in last chapter. Sorry about Regulus by the way. But he had to go. Poor bloke.
> 
> THANK YOU for all the kudos. And a thank you to Shamelessly_Radiant and Clair for writing a comment :D

' _We have to talk._

_You can't stay away forever. I know a lot has happened. Mistakes were made and I'm not completely innocent either. I want to compromise, but you have to talk to me first._

_I know where you are. I can feel it. I won't disturb you there, but we need to talk. Contact me. I can't wait much longer._

_\- Tom'_

Pucey had brought the letter to Hermione. An owl had haunted the borders of the werewolf territory, unable to pass the wards. Pucey had taken pity on the bird and had accepted its letter.

Hermione had not been happy about the letter's content. It was disturbing. Tom was delusional if he thought she'd contact him. She didn't want to ever talk to him again. Hermione pushed the thought of Tom away and threw herself into planning her mission to Hogwarts.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"Yer insane. I hope ya know that."

Greyback gazed at Hermione through his steely eyes and bluntly informed, "Yer gonna get yerself killed."

"They won't catch me," Hermione replied dryly.

"Yer a bit too confident," the pack leader huffed. "Ya not even trained for this kind of shit. Black's an idiot." He turned to Sirius, who stood a bit away, and yelled, "Yer an idiot, Black!"

A big scowl appeared on Sirius' face, but Lupin's hand on his arm stopped him from stamping over to them. Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest and clarified, "This was _my_ idea."

"Yeah yeah," Greyback hummed, not really listening.

He rummaged around the pockets of his uniform cloak. Hermione watched in confusion as he produced a black combat knife. In one smooth movement, he slid the knife from its holster. Even the blade was black, almost invisible in the night.

"I know yer all for that constant wand wavin' an' whatnot," Greyback drawled. "but there's somethin' honest in a nice knife fight. Don't ya think?"

"Er…" Hermione frowned at him. "I guess so…?"

Greyback nodded contently and put the knife back in its holster. Then he handed it to her with the advice, "Secure it to yer belt an' the strap around yer thigh."

A sharp grin appeared on his face and he clapped her heartily on the back, making Hermione stumble a step forward and almost losing the knife. Chuckling, Greyback told her, "Someone comes at you, just stab the bastard. Questions later."

"Um…" Hermione stared down at the knife in her hands and felt bizarrely moved. "Thanks."

The pack leader waved her thanks away. "Don't get all emotional on me. Now off ya go."

Hermione wasn't at all impressed by his gruff tone and smiled at him. "Okay. See you when I get back."

With that she trudged over to Sirius and Lupin. Her stomach curled into nervous knots. Finally, the time had come to set their plan in motion. Hermione felt jittery at the prospect of returning to Hogwarts. Sensing her anxiety, Sirius asked softly,

"You ready?"

Hermione nodded, too nervous to say anything. Lupin threw her an encouraging smile and handed her the Portkey, a pair of round glasses. Hermione held them in shaky hands and could barely listen as Lupin once again went over her mission.

"-from inside. You need to leave the castle to be able to use the Portkey," the werewolf cautioned. "Hogwarts' wards are too strong around the castle proper."

Hermione nodded, feeling a bit forlorn. Maybe Greyback was right. Maybe this was a suicide mission.

"Hermione."

She raised her head at Sirius. A small smile had appeared on his face. "I know you can do this. Otherwise, I wouldn't send you in."

Hermione breathed in deeply. Like a warm blanket, his confidence wrapped around her. Her lips curled up into a shy smile and she promised,

"I won't disappoint you."

Sirius chuckled softly. "You couldn't, even if you tried."

"Okay," Hermione said, steeling herself. "Let's do this."

"Good luck," Lupin said in his raspy voice.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. Sirius smiled and winked at her.

"Go get 'em, Tiger."

†

Barely making any sounds, Hermione crept through Hogwarts' darkened corridors. At two in the morning it was quite unlikely that she'd run into anyone, still her heart raced in her chest. Despite the fear coiling inside her, it was strangely nice to be back in the castle. The old paintings on the walls and the thick wooden doors leading into classrooms made Hermione smile in nostalgia.

She hadn't even reached the entrance into the servants' tunnels yet as her mission hit its first setback. Loud steps echoed through the corridor. Frantically, Hermione searched for a hiding place. In her panic, she squeezed herself into a tiny alcove, complete with arrow slit in the castle's wall.

Holding her breath, Hermione waited. Someone was moving towards her. Whoever it was, for some reason they hadn't lit their wand. Not a professor then? Nervously, Hermione fingered her own wand in her trouser pocket. As the person passed the alcove, she spotted pale skin, freckles and fiery red hair. Instantly, her trepidation drained away and a smile tucked at her mouth. Hermione reached out, grabbed a wrist and pulled.

"What?!" a surprised voice blurted.

The grin on Hermione's face widened. Bright brown eyes blinked up at her in disbelief. Ginny Weasley stared at her as if she'd seen a ghost. Then the girl squealed loudly and threw herself at her friend.

"Hermione!"

Hermione cringed at the loud noise. Still, she wrapped her arms around the girl. "Good to see you."

Ginny giggled, unable to believe her friend was really here. "Look at you," She held Hermione at arms' length and stared at her black attire. "Did you join the Corps?"

Hermione laughed. "No, no. Still a witch, no werewolf."

Ginny again wrapped her arms around her. "Merlin, I missed you so much. You don't even know."

"I missed you too," Hermione replied softly.

The red-head sniffled and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I- We thought- As you just disappeared, we thought they… You know… Just k… killed you."

Fat tears ran from Ginny's eyes. Hermione put a soothing hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm fine. Lupin and Sirius Black saved me."

Ginny pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. Shakily, she looked up at Hermione. A teary smile appeared on her face.

"I knew… I knew you'd be okay. I just knew."

She reached for Hermione and held her hand. After a moment of content silence, Ginny furrowed her brow. "Wait a moment. _Sirius Black_  helped you?"

Hermione nodded amusedly. "Yes. He's a good friend. And I…" She eyed Ginny carefully. "I actually joined the Order of the Phoenix."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "You did?!"

"Yes, they're helping Muggleborns," Hermione replied tentatively. "That's why I'm here tonight. I'm on a mission."

For a moment, Ginny simply stared at her with wide eyes. Then she exclaimed, "That is  _awesome_! Do you need help? I mean, I'm totally in."

Hermione laughed. "No. It's fine. It's more of a recon mission."

Ginny nodded reasonably. "You already sound like a pro. I  _am_  impressed."

"Don't be. I'm muddling through here."

Hermione cautiously peered out of the alcove. Everything was clear. Turning back to Ginny, she said, "I'd love to talk some more, but…"

"You gotta save the world." Ginny grinned at her. "I get it."

The girl once again hugged Hermione tightly. "We'll meet again, yes? I don't want to lose you again."

A smile was on Hermione's lips and her eyes burned a bit. "Yes, definitely."

With that, she slipped out of the alcove. Hermione would've loved to stay with her friend but she forced herself to press on. Without looking back, she scurried towards one of the servants' entrances. The tunnel that greeted her was dank and narrow. A shudder went down Hermione's spine, but she hurried through the tunnel and down flights of stairs. Soon she reached the large double doors leading into the kitchens. Nervously, Hermione wrung her hands.

This was it.

Scraping together all her Gryffindor bravery, she opened the door. Even at this late hour, the kitchens welcomed Hermione with the loud hustle and bustle of people working. Hogwarts Muggleborns were still busy. Hot steam and the smell of food hit Hermione while wafts of mist drifted out of the nearby laundry room. Hermione walked further into the room. Slowly people recognized her and whispers started around her. Holding her back straight, Hermione's gaze wandered over the room. The Muggleborns had paused in their chores and openly stared at her.

"What's going on?" a voice cut into the awkward silence.

Hermione sighed in relief. Dobby had stepped out of the laundry room, frown on his face. It wasn't long and his eyes fell on her. Hermione chuckled softly as she saw first shock then joy wash over the man's face.

"Penny!" Dobby exclaimed happily. "Is it really you?"

Hermione grinned at the man. "Thought I'd visit. I hope it's not an inconvenience."

An incredulous laugh bubbled from Dobby. "You crazy girl. You're always welcome."

Still grinning, he pulled Hermione towards a rickety table in a corner of the kitchens. He placed a hot cup of tea in front of her and sat beside her at the table.

"Merlin." The man scanned her in disbelief. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Just as Hermione wanted to reply, a voice interrupted her, "Is it really Penny?"

Smile on her face Winky, hurried over to their table. The woman enveloped Hermione in a hug.

"It really  _is_  you!"

Hermione returned the hug. "Sorry for just disappearing."

Winky plopped down on a chair and lamented, "Circe, we had no idea what happened to you."

"Yes, we  _were_  worried," Dobby agreed, concern dulling his eyes. "But you're fine, yes?"

"Better than ever," Hermione quickly assured.

Dobby's eyes slid over the black uniform she was wearing. He caught her gaze and cocked a questioning eyebrow. Hermione grinned at him in response.

"But  _what_  happened to you?" Winky inquired. "Did new Masters buy you?"

Hermione's eyes wandered to the woman. Carefully, she said, "No. I don't have any masters anymore. I'm free."

Dobby watched her, seemingly not surprised by her revelation. Winky, on the other hand, gasped and grabbed her chest in shock.

"N- no Master?"

"Yes." Hermione inclined her head. "One of the reasons I'm here... I have a proposition."

Winky hovered on the verge of fainting but Dobby inquired shrewdly. "What sort of proposition?"

"To help you get away, just like I did."

"Get away?" Dobby questioned.

"You know what I mean." Hermione smiled at him sadly and gestured at the kitchens. "This is no life worth living."

There was an unreadable look on Dobby's face. "I'm afraid I  _don't_  know…"

Hermione considered her next words very carefully, "I know you can see it, Dobby. The injustice. The cruelty we have to bear like we deserve no better. It's wrong."

"Is it really?" Dobby mused colourlessly.

"Very much so," Hermione noted. "You all need to get away from this."

"It's how things are." Dobby shrugged. "Always have been."

"It doesn't mean things have to stay like this forever," Hermione said in a quiet voice.

Dobby sighed tiredly, "Nothing to be done about it."

"We  _can_  do something," she insisted firmly. "I got away. I quit." She leaned towards him and whispered, "I came back, because I want to change things."

Dobby's eyes sharpened. "You're offering us a ticket out of this?"

"Yes." Conviction wrapped around Hermione's words. "I can get you out."

Dobby cocked a doubtful eyebrow and said wryly, "You? A lot of work for one person, don't you think?"

On his face, Hermione could see that he already had a good guess where she came from. It was time to lay the cards on the table. "I never said I was alone. I'm representing the Order of the Phoenix. I'm offering you my help and the help of Sirius Black."

Dobby's lips slightly curled into a grin, but before he could reply, Winky screeched loudly, "What?! The O- Order of the Phoenix? This- this is crazy." She tugged at Dobby's arm. "You can't seriously listen to this. Sirius Black? He's a criminal."

"No, he's not," Hermione interrupted. "He's fighting to free all Muggleborns."

"F- free?!" Winky stuttered, staring at Hermione in shock and disgust. "Free of what? What're you  _talking_  about, girl?"

"We need to get away from the Purebloods," Hermione replied fiercely. "They have no right to steal us from our families or buy us like meat. Muggleborns should be free. That's what Sirius Black wants and that's what I want."

Indignantly, Winky returned, "Free Mudbloods? What do you think we'll do then? Hm? This is all I've ever learned. I don't know any spells. What do you think I'll do without my job here?"

"It's not a job. Not really," Hermione grimly noted.

"This is outrageous," Winky exclaimed, anger seeping into her voice. "I won't listen to your absurd ideas anymore. You should be ashamed of yourself."

She jumped up from her chair and furiously stamped away. Hermione's eyes followed her sadly. Nervously, she peered at Dobby.

"What do  _you_  think?"

Dobby eyed her and his lips turned into a smile. "I think that I'm interested in your absurd ideas."

Hermione's tense posture relaxed slightly. "Thank Merlin. I thought you're going to give me the boot."

Dobby chuckled softly. "No."

Hermione threw him a grin. Then she got serious again, "The Order and I, we have a plan to get you all out of here."

Dobby nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"You have to convince the other Muggleborns," said Hermione. "They need to agree and accept our help."

The man rubbed his chin in contemplation. "You want me to talk them into following the Order?"

"No." Hermione shook her head. "Don't talk them into anything. This first step needs to be taken voluntarily. It's their decision. If they agree, we'll get you out of Hogwarts and out of the UK. You'll have a life of your own, without anyone telling you what to do."

"That  _does_  sound compelling," Dobby mused. "How much time do I have to talk to the others?"

"A week," Hermione replied. "I'll return in a week and we'll set the plan in motion. I promise, everyone who wants to leave will get out of here."

Dobby ran a hand through his short hair. "This is all a bit sudden."

"I know. It can't be helped," Hermione sighed. "But we  _need_  you. The others listen to you. They trust your judgement."

He threw her a crooked smile. "Let's hope so." Dobby's gaze wandered over the kitchens and the people working. "I'm pretty sure, deep down even Winky knows you're right."

†

Hufflepuff's crest still adorned the kitchens' fireplace. Hermione stared at the crest and felt Hufflepuff's wards humming around it.

"That's what you've been searching for?" Dobby frowned at the crest.

Hermione peered at the man standing beside her. "I think it's an entrance."

She pulled her wand and let her magic brush over Hufflepuff's wards. Almost instantly they granted her passage. Obviously, Helga Hufflepuff hadn't wanted to hide her Cup forever. Hermione's heart skipped an excited beat as she watched the back wall of the fireplace wobble slightly.

She threw Dobby a grin. "See you."

Then she closed her eyes and stepped right through the wall. Hufflepuff's wards tickling over Hermione's skin. On the other side, she stepped out of a similar fireplace and into a beautiful study. A small smile slid on her face as she marvelled at the room. It was probably twice the size of the Gryffindor common room. One wall was covered by a shelf from floor to ceiling, stuffed with books. Fluffy carpets lay on the floor and small tables, arm chairs and sofas invited the visitor to sit down and read.

Hermione let her fingers skim over the books' spines as she strolled further into the room. She spotted a few portraits hanging at the walls. The people in the frames were sleeping. Only one of the paintings was awake. The woman in the portrait eyed Hermione through incredibly blue eyes. Her flaming red hair was braided intricately, yellow and black ribbons adorning the plait. Hermione instantly knew who the beautiful woman was. With wide eyes, she stared up at the portrait, blushing slightly. The woman didn't say anything, but inclined her head in greeting. Feeling incredibly nervous, Hermione stupidly blurted the first thing that popped into her mind,

"You have a nice study. I bet Ravenclaw was jealous."

Mortified, her blush grew even deeper. Hufflepuff laughed blithefully, but no sound could be heard. The portrait was very old, maybe the spells back then hadn't been able to catch speech or the magic had simply worn off or. Hermione tried to collect herself and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry to burst in like this…" She hesitated, not really knowing how to address one of the Founders. "…Lady Hufflepuff?"

The woman smiled warmly and shook her head. Hermione gulped nervously.

"Mistress Hufflepuff?"

Again the woman shook her head. Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. She eyed the kind look on Hufflepuff's face and stuttered softly,

"H- Helga?"

Hufflepuff's features lit up and the smile again split her face as she nodded happily. A smile blossomed on Hermione's own face. Then she explained breathlessly,

"I'm here because I'm searching for your Cup. You see, Tom… he's a dark wizard and he wants to destroy it. And I… I can't let him do that."

Hufflepuff pursed her lips and her clear blue eyes raked over Hermione in contemplation. Nervously wringing her hands, Hermione gazed back at the woman. In the end, Hufflepuff came to a decision. Sad look clouding her face, she nodded her acquiescence.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered in relief. "I promise, I'll protect your Cup."

Hufflepuff raised a hand and snapped her fingers. To Hermione's left, a small sitting area flickered into visibility, released by heavy wards. Hufflepuff gestured at the sitting area and again nodded. Cautiously, Hermione stepped closer. There was a soft armchair with matching pouffe and a small table. As if abandoned just seconds ago, an open book, parchment and quill lay on the table. Casually, as if it were intended for the afternoon tea, a golden cup stood right beside the book. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath as she recognized the Cup. It glowed in a warm light, illuminating the badger on its front. With trembling hands, she it picked up. The cup merrily hummed with magic, seemingly enjoying Hermione's admiration. A smile slid on her face. She'd really found it.

_Hufflepuff's Cup._

Hermione's triumph was harshly interrupted as she heard steps in the empty chamber. They echoed loudly on the marble stone tiles. She stiffened, but didn't turn around. Somehow, she already knew who it was. Her previous elation collapsed, a hollow feeling taking over.

"Tom," Hermione observed tightly. "I wondered when you'd show up."

Indeed, it was Tom's silky soft voice that replied, "You've been waiting for me?"

"No," Hermione replied curtly as she placed the Cup in her backpack.

She turned around and was met by startlingly blue eyes. Tom stood in the middle of Hufflepuff's Study, scanning her interestedly. He wasn't clothed in Hogwarts' school uniform, but in a pair of black trousers and a blue button-down shirt. It suited him. He looked elegant, handsome.

"I thought you'd finally leave me alone," Hermione informed him scathingly. "You love to disappoint, don't you?"

A hint of annoyance crossed Tom's face, but it was gone in the blink of a second. Instead, a disturbingly kind expression lightened his features.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Tom even managed to sound honest. " _I_ 'm glad to see you."

Hermione pinned him with a glare. Her mouth was pressed into a thin, disapproving line as her eyes wandered over the Slytherin. He gazed back at her, slight smile on his handsome features, and looked like he was genuinely happy to see her.

"You look well," Tom said gingerly. "I was worried. You never replied to my letter."

Hermione shook her head at his attempt to ingratiate himself. "What do you want from me?"

Tom didn't immediately reply. His mesmerising eyes were still glued to her. A strange fascination gleamed behind his pupils as he drank her in.

"I think you know."

Hermione sneered at him. "I'm not giving you the Cup. I won't let you have  _any_  of the Founders' objects."

Tom laughed and it made chills darting down Hermione's spine. In his melodious voice, he whispered, "I still want the Cup; it's true. But that's not why I'm here."

He walked over to her. Hermione tensed and clasped her wand in her pocket. He stopped right in front of her, much too close for comfort.

"Hermione," Tom murmured and lightly ghosted his fingers over her arm. "I missed you."

Hermione simply brushed his hand away from her and glared at him. Tom still smiled warmly and his voice was almost a bit shaky as he breathed, "I missed you so much."

Hermione's heart picked up speed as she heard his tone of voice. Harshly , she ignored her traitorous heart and snapped, "I don't _care_."

"I'm sorry," Tom whispered and his magic gently wrapped around her. "I apologize for my actions. They've been rash and despicable. I regret that you got hurt."

Hermione swallowed. His apology, heartfelt or not, unsettled her and she despised herself for the warm feeling bubbling up in her. Nervously, she licked her lips.

"I never had someone like you," Tom said softly. "I was overwhelmed. I didn't know how to deal and reacted poorly. Then you left and I couldn't…"

He ran his fingers over her cheek in an affectionate gesture. Hermione shuddered involuntarily and her breathing quickened. Tom's mesmerizing eyes were pleading with her, begging her, and it threw her off balance. Conflicting emotions pelted down on her. She  _hated_  him, but then why did she also gravitate towards that intoxicating feeling of his nearness?

Tom then wrapped his arms around her. Hermione gasped as he pulled her against his chest. She didn't try to get away. She couldn't. Only her right hand was still closed around the wand in her pocket. Her heart stuttered and skipped a few beats as Tom hugged her. His warmth enveloped her and his magic licked happily over her like electricity. Tom bent down and buried his face against her bushy hair. Softly, he pleaded,

"You can't leave me alone again."

Two fingers under her chin tilted Hermione's face up and then soft lips were pressed against hers. She should run, fight, scream, but did nothing. Tom was so gentle, so caring, as he kissed her. There only was him, so familiar, so comfortable, and Hermione wanted to lean into the contact. She needed to wrap her arms around his neck and return the kiss like she'd done so many times before.

But how could she?

A tight feeling twisted around her throat as Hermione raised a hand and decidedly pushed against Tom's chest. He stopped kissing her. For a moment his lips brushed against her, trembling slightly. Then he reluctantly pulled back. He eyed her longingly as he whispered,

"I love you, Hermione. I never told you that."

Hermione took in a sharp breath of air. Trembling slightly, she stared at him. No-one had ever said that to her and Tom looked like he meant it. She stumbled away from him. Hermione's heart raced in her chest, driven by some unknown emotion, and she stuttered,

"No. You don't. You don't love me."

"How can you tell?" Tom inquired gingerly. "I'm honest with you."

"No!" she insisted desperately. "How can you love me? You betrayed me. You revealed my identity and they almost killed me."

Guilt washed over Tom's face. "I know I did. That was before… before I realized what you mean to me."

There was so much sincerity in his voice. His fingers curled around her wrist, holding her gently. "Give me another chance."

Hermione could hear her blood rushing in her ears as she stared up into Tom's eyes. Breathing was becoming difficult around the lump in her throat. His gaze was keeping her imprisoned and she was unable to look away.

It was unexpected.

At first, Hermione didn't want to admit it was there. Still, she could see it. Undeniable, unescapable. A tremble ran over her body as she stared at Tom's handsome face. It clawed at her relentlessly and her thoughts tilted into a mess.

Tom's blue eyes were murky.

Tainted.

A red gleam burned behind his pupils,

bleeding into the blue of the irises.

Hermione flinched away, a gasp tumbling from her lips. Shock and fear consumed her as she stared at Tom in disbelief. The truth burned like acid on her lips, "You created a Horcrux."

A relieved, almost happy, expression slipped on Tom's face. Hermione felt sick as he nodded his head.

"Yes. For you."

"No!" Hermione choked, feeling faint. "Don't… don't say that."

"I wanted to show you," Tom said, smiling in elation. "It's safe. I told you. Now you can see for yourself."

Hermione trembled all over. She felt the sharp claws of panic tearing into her, making her thoughts churn.

"See?" Tom proclaimed with twisted pride on his face. "I'm okay. There's no need for you to fight me. My plan is working."

Cold as ice, fear grasped at Hermione. Tom must have sensed it, because he tried to soothe her, "Everything is as I promised. You can come back to me. You don't need to be afraid anymore. Join me. Be my Horcrux."

Hermione stared at him incredulously. She didn't really want to ask, "Who did you kill?"

"There really wasn't much choice," Tom replied smugly. "He betrayed me. He betrayed both our trust."

The look on his face made her want to turn and run away. Sick triumph shone in Tom's red-blue eyes as he said coldly, "R.A.B. deserved it."

_Regulus?  
_  
Hermione's heart tightened painfully. She stared at the vile amusement on Tom's face. He was proud of having  _murdered_ someone? Something heavy and painful squeezed around her throat.  _Regulus._  Hermione couldn't breathe. Tears welled up in her eyes. They trickled down her cheeks and she could do nothing but stare at Tom. Seeing her state, worry washed over Tom's face and he ran a hand over her shoulder and down her arm to then gently hold her hand.

"Don't cry, Hermione," he crooned to her. "I know you liked Black. I know. But he was no good. He was weak and useless. I promise, you'll understand. You don't need him. From now on,  _I_ 'll be there for you."

Hermione struggled for breath, choked by tears. This was not happening! She couldn't think. Regulus' smiling face flashed through her mind. He couldn't be  _dead_. Hermione doubled over, sobbing, gasping for breath. Crippling pain ripped at her, numb and sharp all the same. Suddenly, arms were wrapped around her. They gently steadied her. Hermione couldn't help it and leaned into the comfort. Still crying, she buried her face in Tom's chest. It was wrong. Her hands fisted his shirt as she clung to him and nothing was okay. She was breaking. If Tom weren't here to hold her, she would've been swept away by the cruel torrent. And for that moment, Hermione accepted his comfort because she had no choice.

All too soon, cruel reality sharpened around her and she stopped to swim in the haze. Tom's arms around Hermione grew unbearable, his comfort nauseating. Violently, she ripped away from him. Tom let go but eyed her in concern. Hermione stared at him and was almost relieved as rage finally hit her.

"You…" she spat furiously. "You disgusting,  _vile_  piece of dirt!"

Her body trembled, rage and pain crashing over her. Her eyes were fixed on Tom and yet she could barely see him. Or maybe it was the first time she looked at the real him.

"You k- killed my friend." Hermione's voice was breaking over her anger. "You killed Regulus?! Why-? Why would you-? You _murdered_  my friend!"

Tom's red eyes looked at her, no shimmer of regret in them. Red. Red. Red. Red as burning embers. Red as blood. If there was a colour to death, it was this red.

"What have you  _done_?!" pained words fell from Hermione's lips. "Why?! B- because you think you can cheat death? This is-"

"I didn't simply cheat death," Tom cut over her, sick pride lacing his tone. "I transcended mortality. I became something more, something better."

A mirthless laugh fell from Hermione's lips as she saw the insanity staring at her from behind his eyes. "You think I care? You sealed your own fate. There's no turning back."

Tom's handsome face lit up with a demented smile. "Why would I  _want_  to turn back? I'm immortal now. Invincible."

Hermione stared at him, disgust coiling around her, and she felt the need to throw up. "This will consume you. And you'll have an eternity to suffer from it."

Tom's eyes still smouldered with the eerie red gleam as he looked at her. A handsome smile danced around his lips. Hermione crinkled her nose, repulsed. There was something off about Tom. Glaringly obvious, it lay in the open even though he was blind to it.

"Believe me, Black wasn't a good person," Tom cajoled, smiling at her consolingly. "He deserved it. Please, I didn't want to anger you. I want you to be with me."

Hermione's magic bristled around her, ready to pounce. "You don't need to sweet-talk me anymore. There's no use. At this point," She pulled her wand and raised it at him. "there's  _no-one_  who repels me more than you."

She saw Tom's eyes widen in shock. Then a dark look crossed his face and his powerful magic rippled the air. Something lethal and dangerous entered his voice as he said, "You're not going to stand against me, Hermione. I  _will_  have you."

"Penny," Hermione clarified, her voice hard as steel. "To you, I'm Penny. I don't want someone like  _you_  calling me Hermione."

She waved her wand and threw a curse at him. In one fluid movement, Tom pulled his own wand and swished it through the air. Hermione's curse was averted and harmlessly impacted with the floor. Tom stared at her and not a trace of emotion was visible on his handsome features. Only his magic raged around him in a murderous cloud. Hermione still poised her wand at the dark wizard. Tom took a threatening step towards her and a dull pain ripped at her Dark Mark. His voice was strangely soft as he said,

"I don't want to hurt you, but you're forcing my hand."

Hermione couldn't back down. She knew how powerful Tom really was. He had that certain kind of raw talent that couldn't be replicated by simply reading books or memorising spells. Hermione knew she was no weak witch, but Tom Riddle was on another level. Still, she wouldn't let him win. Baring her teeth in a snarl, she hissed,

"I won't stay with you. You're a monster."

A sharp pain erupted in her left forearm. Hermione cringed but otherwise didn't react. Tom opened his mouth and whispered, the conviction in his tone making her tremble,

"You're mine. I'll never let you go."

His magic danced around Hermione, singing to her of nothing but death and destruction. She could feel it rubbing over her body, seeping through her Dark Mark and into her system.

"For all that talk about immortality, you know what?" Hermione said, voice heavy. "I'd rather die." She locked eyes with Tom. "I'd rather  _die_  than stay with you."

With that Hermione slashed her wand through the air. A dangerously sizzling curse rushed towards Tom. He easly warded it off. They stared at each other, suspended in a second of inaction.

Then Tom attacked.

His pale wand flashed through the air and a stream of powerful curses pelted down on Hermione. She had barely time to spin protective magic around herself and even less to return any curses. The exchange was fast and brutal. Hermione had fought against Tom before but never like this. This time, they truly were enemies.

An especially powerful curse rammed into her defence. Hermione hissed in pain as the impact reverberated through her shield, into her wand and harshly ripped at her wrist. Tom didn't hesitate and never slowed down. Beads of sweat formed on Hermione's forehead as she desperately tried to keep his attacks at bay. Tom's curses weren't overly complicated like the ones he tended to showcase during DADA. Instead, his wand movements were concise and fast. The resulting curses were incredibly powerful and, foregoing any flashiness, were designed to hit their target with deadly precision.

Hermione cried out in shock and pain as one of his curses cut through her shield and slashed into her shoulder. She stumbled and the arm holding her wand wavered. As a result her shielding magic flickered. There was not the hint of emotion on Tom's face as he continued to attack viciously and, like a glass wall, Hermione's shield shattered. She had a split second to throw herself to the side to avoid another curse. Tom's magic hit one of the armchairs instead and it burst into flames. Hermione stared at the burning chair, fear clouding her mind.

That could have been her.

There was no room to descend into panic, though. Hermione picked herself up from the floor and again faced Tom. In grim determination, she waved her wand. This time it were Hermione's curses that illuminated Hufflepuff's Study.

Still, Tom remained to be untouchable. Gracefully, he moved his wand and swatted her curses away without breaking a sweat. Hermione gritted her teeth in anger. She wasn't going to let this wizard get the better of her. Her rage infected her magic and it stormed around her dangerously. Once again, she ripped her wand through the air and pushed her irate magic into a powerful curse. Wrathfully, it raced towards Tom. He easily erected a reddish shield around himself. Hermione's curse slammed into the shield and cracks appeared in the red wall. A look of surprise flittered over Tom's handsome face as the cracks spread until his shield broke. The remnants of Hermione's curse tore into Tom. He gasped in pain as he was hit and stumbled a few steps back, one arm painfully thrown around his stomach. Tom's head was slightly bent, so she couldn't see his face, and he panted in pain.

Hermione just wanted to again raise wand as Tom's face shot up at her. Gone was the emotionless mask. Cold fury now distorted his handsome features. Tom's eyes had lost all of their blue colour but now gleamed in a murderous red. Hermione froze as she looked into his eyes. Tom's glare kept her imprisoned as he said, malice warping his voice into a lethal threat,

"This fight is over."

Hermione eyes widened with dread as he raised his wand. Hastily, she brandished her own wand and fired a curse at him. Tom brushed it away with a mere wave of his left hand, never stopping his complex wand movements. In terror, Hermione felt his dangerous magic react. Like a tidal wave, it flowed towards Tom and banked up around him, swirling menacingly. Hermione stumbled a step back as she was confronted with such massive power. She jumped in fright as abruptly Tom sliced his wand through the air and pointed it at her. With the movement, the peak of Tom's magic broke. Its full force unleashed, it raged towards Hermione. She protectively pulled her own magic around herself. Raising her wand in front of her, Hermione held off Tom's attack. Hufflepuff's Study around her was wrecked, delicate mahogany tables ripped apart, armchairs turned to dust and the floor's marble tiles shattered. Still, Hermione's defence held. Like a knife her magic cut through the wave of Tom's attack.

If it had depended on skill alone, she might have gained the upper hand. Unfortunately, Tom had both, skill and a vast reservoir of power. His magic was overwhelming. Hermione's defence wavered as she was caught up in the maelstrom of Tom's power. She lost her footing. Her wand arm jerked and the flow of her magic was interrupted. Instantly, Tom's magic grasped her and she was carried away by the power. Hermione was thrown around, barely able to breathe. His magic ripped at her and flowed into her body, painfully slicing into her. Hermione barely knew up from down anymore. It was almost a relief as the brutal force finally threw her away. Violently, she impacted with a shelf of books. In a shower of dust and ripped book pages, Hermione fell to the floor.

Her whole body hurt and she groaned in pain. Hermione's breathing was shallow and fast. With difficulty, she managed to roll on her back. Her magic had collapsed into a weak pile, beaten down by Tom's aggressive attack. Sprawled on the floor, Hermione helplessly watched as he walked towards her. He had put his wand away in his robe pocket, certain of his victory. She bit the inner side of her cheek hard as panic overwhelmed her.

The frightening rage had left Tom's face. Still, Hermione flinched as he stopped in front of her. Her heart was racing, threatening to rip her chest apart. Tom's magic was all over her, crackling in the air, slicing over her skin with the threat of more pain. He gazed at her and his eyes had turned back to calm blue. After a moment, he spoke, voice once again soft,

"You're staying with me."

Despite the gentle streak in his voice, it was an order best not left unanswered. Hermione stared up at him with wide eyes, still lying on the floor. Disgustingly helpless.

"I'm sorry I had to hurt you like this," Tom told to her. "I know you hate me at the moment, but you'll come to understand that everything I did, I did it for us."

Hermione couldn't move, her body frozen into place. Fearful shivers ran up and down her spine. A soft smile curved Tom's lips as he reached for her. His hand closed around her upper arm and the contact was so gentle, so affectionate, like he were handling something precious and dear.

"I told you," he murmured, voice like silk from his lips. "I love you. I'll always love you."

All the thoughts in Hermione's head were tangled, wrapped up in panic. Tom's blue eyes gazed at her calmly as if they alone offered salvation. Gingerly, he pulled at her arm to help her up.

"I'll turn you into my second Horcrux," Tom told her lovingly. "I promise, I'll protect you. I'll always keep you safe."

Hermione didn't know whether it were his words or the twisted form of affection on his face that pushed her into action. It wasn't a conscious decision on her part but her body seemed to be on autopilot. Hermione's hand flew to Greyback's knife at her hip. She ripped it from its holster and watched as if in slow motion as she slashed the blade through the air. It sliced into Tom's arm, cut through the sleeve of his shirt and into skin and flesh. Blood poured from the wound and his hand released her.

Time then crashed back to her. Hermione heard Tom's gasp of pain. He pressed a hand over his profusely bleeding forearm. There was no room for hesitation. Using his distraction, Hermione scrambled up from the floor. Then she turned and sprinted towards the exit of Hufflepuff's Study.

A panicked whirl of her wand and the Study's exit revealed itself. Hermione heard loud steps following her. Tom would get her. In a desperate effort to escape, she threw herself towards the exit. Hufflepuff's magic let her pass. On the other side, Hermione jumped out of the kitchens' fireplace and crashed into the floor. Feeling a bit dazed, she looked up. Eyes wide with concern, Dobby stared at her. Hastily, Hermione got up from the floor.

"Don't try to stop him," she advised Dobby hoarsely.

Then she dashed to the exit. She knew Tom was close behind.

.

Tom rushed after the girl. She was fast. He left Hufflepuff's Study and the kitchens and still Hermione was ahead of him, dashing down the dark tunnel. His arm hurt sharply where she'd cut him, but he ignored the pain. Blood was dripping from his hand as he chased after her. Hermione ran up a flight of stairs. Tom skipped a few of the stair's steps and he could gain on her. He raised his hand and grabbed her. His fingers were slippery with blood and Hermione ripped away, now blood-red stains on her wrist. Tom stumbled and lost precious seconds.

The girl left the servants' tunnels and ran down one of Hogwarts' main corridors. Suits of armour glinted dully in the moonlight as Tom raced after her. He was steadily gaining ground. He would catch her. Hermione turned left and he realized where she was headed. Tom gritted his teeth and picked up even more speed. His steps echoed loudly as he followed Hermione towards the castle's entrance door. He cursed inwardly as he watched how the girl waved her wand and the door creaked open.

"No!" Tom hissed as Hermione passed the threshold and ran outside.

He was only a few metres behind her. The cold night air hit him as Tom left the castle. Stars blinked down from a black sky and illuminated Hermione with a ghostly sheen. Tom hastened after her and an ice-cold feeling flashed through him as he spotted her pulling something from her pocket. A pair of glasses. They gleamed in the blue light of a Portkey. Hermione raised her wand to activate the Portkey. Tom's chest tightened as he saw it. He frantically waved his own wand and sent a Stunner after her.

The Portkey lit up. Tom could glimpse Hermione's pale face, wide eyes staring at him. Then she disappeared into thin air. The red light of his Stunner missed her by a split-second. Tom stared at the empty spot. His thoughts swirled and he felt dizzy. No.  _No no_. Why would she leave?! He'd prepared everything. He'd explained it. Hermione should have understood. Why would she leave him?! Tom's breathing was fast and his fingers tightened painfully around his wand.

Hermione was his girlfriend. She was special. Why did she leave? She couldn't  _leave_  him!

Tom stuck his wand into his pocket, his hand shaking violently. Thoughts in turmoil, Tom marched back to the castle. A sharp pain came from his arm where she'd cut him. He pressed his hand over the wound, stemming the blood. He felt shaky and spend as he re-entered the castle. As Tom walked to the Heads' chambers a horrible headache built up behind his forehead. His magic felt strangely stretched thin. By the time Tom reached his room, he was feeling sick and nauseous.

Weakly, he stumbled into the bathroom and was greeted with his extremely pale face glaring at him from the mirror. Tom stepped over to the sink. His headache now felt like a knife rammed into his skull. Groaning softly, he cupped cold water into his hands and splashed it on his face. It didn't help much. He was trembling all over as he cleaned the cut in his arm. It was deep. Why would she  _do_  that? He should probably heal it, but his magic still wobbled around him in a mess.

As Tom returned to his bedroom he felt even worse. Carefully, he lied down on his bed. As he closed his eyes, everything spun in his head. Tom swallowed thickly.

Why would she run away?

†

Hermione crash-landed on Corps territory. Her breathing was fast and sweat drops rolled down her forehead. Feeling shaky, she stared at the blood stains on her wrist. It wasn't her blood and she hastily wiped it away on her trousers.

"Hermione!"

The yell made her jump. Hermione's head shot up and she had barely time to recognize Sirius before she was enveloped in a hug.

"Hey hey," another voice cut in. "Don't crush her."

Sirius released her from his bear hug, still grinning. Lupin stepped closer and he, too, smiled at Hermione.

"It's good to have you back," the werewolf said in his raspy voice.

Sirius nodded, eyes glinting mirthfully. "I knew it. I knew you'd make it back in one piece."

The big smile still stretched over his face and Hermione felt a stab in her stomach. She looked up at Sirius and couldn't return his smile. Lupin seemed to sense her agitation. Concern lacing his tone, he inquired,

"Hermione, are you alright? Did something happen?"

Hermione swallowed thickly. Almost, she didn't want to meet Sirius' gaze but forced herself to look up at him. Voice heavy, she whispered,

"It's Regulus."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **My face is my own, I thought.**

**But you have seen it**

**turn into a thousand years.**

**I watched you cry.'**

**\- Robert Creeley**

**(*1926** **†** **2005)**


	37. Quite Insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers. Here's the brand new chapter :D I hope you enjoy it. Lots going on. Tom and his crazy ideas. Hermione, the Order and Sirius have a few things to resolve. Also there's a bit of Greyback in this chapter. Haha I kinda started to love him.
> 
> THANK YOU for giving me kudos and special thanks to GracieRose and omg for commenting on last chapter :D

Tom sat in the classroom and listened to Professor Sinistra's lecture about Jupiter and its moons. Skilfully, he had erected his persona of the ever studious Head Boy and diligently took notes. In truth his thoughts were miles away. Since that night she'd escaped, Tom found his mind swirling around Hermione more often than not. It'd been days and he just  _could not_  stop thinking about her.

Hermione was wrong to run from him. She should support him in his endeavour to create Horcruxes. Tom didn't understand how Hermione could be so short-sighted. His Horcrux was a blessing. Why would she be against something so powerful and valuable? Couldn't she  _see_? Protected by his Horcrux, Tom could do whatever he wanted. He would achieve all that he dreamed of. He could bend everything to his will. People would bow to him. Magic would bow.

Wasn't it generous that he wanted to share this achievement with his girlfriend? Hermione's reluctance to accept his gift was as baffling as it was inconvenient. How was he to convince her? She was stubborn. Tom considered to drop Hermione and wash his hands of the ungrateful girl. He didn't  _need_  her. He should carry on without her.

If only he  _could_.

Tom's fingers angrily tightened around his quill. Hermione just wouldn't let him go. Whenever he tried, her pretty face would force its way back into his thoughts. Brown eyes would smile at him, sometimes glare, and he wanted her. He  _wanted_  her! All of her.

Tom released a long tired breath. The ever present headache pulsed between his temples and he wanted to return to his room. Instead, he had to sit through yet another pointless class. Professor Sinistra's voice still droned on,

"-especially important for certain rituals to strengthen spells. Now, who can tell me the orbital period of Ganymede?" As no-one volunteered to answer Sinistra turned to Tom, "Mr Riddle?"

Tom stiffened, quill hovering over the parchment. Sinistra arched an eyebrow at him, clearly expecting her star pupil to have the answer. He usually did, too, but right now Tom was drawing a blank.

"Er…"

A frown appeared between the professor's eyebrows and she prompted, "Ganymede? The orbital period?"

Tom blinked at her stupidly. He should know this. Ink dripped from the quill's tip, spoiling his perfect notes. Never in his almost seven years of schooling had Tom uttered the following words,

"I don't know."

Surprise flittered through Sinistra's eyes and the other students shifted and whispered softly. Tom's lips thinned in upcoming anger. Wasn't he allowed to have a bad day once in a while? He couldn't know everything, now, could he? Irate magic bubbled up in Tom. His fingers itched to pull his wand and curse them all. Easily, his magic would slice into warm bodies, blood splattering on the floor.

"Anyone else?" Sinistra smoothed over his lapse.

It was Dean Thomas who raised his hand. "Seven days?"

Tom hid a murderous glare behind polite interest. He'd have loved to lunge over the rows of tables and punch Thomas in the face. He could almost hear the satisfying crunch of breaking bones.

"Almost." Sinistra smiled. "Ganymede completes its revolution around Jupiter every seven days and three hours. Now let's have a look at Io-"

Tom dropped out of the lecture and blankly stared down at his parchment. A huge ink spot smudged his notes. His head still hurt and he felt dizzy. These days, the bond that tied Hermione to him did nothing but chafe at Tom painfully, telling him exactly where she was. Mockingly, it dangled her presence just out of his reach. Once again, his girlfriend had taken to hide on the werewolf territory, unreachable behind thick wards and the Corps' soldiers.

Wearily, Tom rubbed a hand over his face. Clearly, this was all Hermione's fault. Since she'd left, he just couldn't calm down, couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't sleep, really.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

While Tom sat through his Astronomy class, Hermione attended another meeting with the Order of the Phoenix. Once again, they had assembled in the small meeting room on werewolf territory. Currently, Alastor Moody was staring at Hermione, his artificial eye sternly boring into her.

"So you think Hogwarts' Muggleborns will agree?" he inquired for what felt like the hundredth time.

Hermione sighed and let her gaze wander over the assembled Order. Even Greyback had joined them this time and slouched at the table, lazily picking at his long claws. Only Sirius was missing. Hermione's stomach flopped. Since she'd told him about Regulus, Sirius had cloistered himself away.

"So?" Moody prompted. "What'd you think?"

Hermione's attention re-focused on the Auror. Banning all dejectedness from her voice, she replied firmly, "Dobby is definitely on our side. I'm sure that he'll convince most of the other Muggleborns."

Moody arched a dissatisfied eyebrow. "You're  _sure_? Well, isn't that nice?"

Tonks groaned as she heard his sarcasm and let her head loudly fall on the table. Hermione indignantly arched her eyebrows at Moody and clarified, "I trust Dobby. He promised he'd do his best. That's good enough for me."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, challenging Moody to disagree. The Auror levelled a cold glare at her. It was Mrs Weasley who tried to defuse the situation,

"Leave her alone, Alastor. Hermione did a great job."

Moody huffed, but at least didn't add anything. Lupin sighed tiredly. In face of Sirius' absence, it fell to him to head the meeting. Hermione didn't think he appreciated that at the moment. Lupin ran an irritated hand through his hair and said in his raspy voice,

"Okay. Now that that's straightened out, let's move on." He cocked a questioning eyebrow at Tonks. "You said Amelia is on board, yes?"

"Was a piece of cake." A big grin split Tonks' face and she winked at Lupin. "You know how convincing I can be."

A blush dusted Lupin's face and a smirk stretched his lips. He grew serious again as addressed Kingsley Shacklebolt, "What about the Floo network?"

"It looks good," the other man replied in his deep voice. "I can secure unmonitored connections from Hogwarts' kitchens to eight, maybe nine, different locations. All temporary, of course."

"What's the timeframe?" Mr Weasley inquired softly.

"They're open for half an hour," Shacklebolt said. "One tops."

Lupin nodded, grave look on his face. "This means we have to divide the Muggleborns between the different Floo exit points. So we're talking about eight groups of around a dozen people who separately open the Floo and leave one group after the other. All has to go done within thirty minutes."

"Yes," Alice Longbottom inclined her head, cold eyes gazing at the werewolf. "That is if Hermione's contact at Hogwarts can convince all Muggleborns. But I think if we manage to get half of them, it's still a victory."

"I agree," said Lupin. "Still leaves us with eight or nine teams to receive the Muggleborns at the different Floo exit points. The teams are responsible to smuggle them safely over the border." He turned to Greyback inquired, "The Order can set up three teams, the others would have to come from our ranks. Is it possible to spare that many men, sir?"

Greyback glanced at his captain and drawled, "Shouldn't be a problem. Bu' ya know I can't order them. 's all off the record. Only volunteers. Ya have ter assemble the teams on yer own."

"Yes, sir," came Lupin's swift reply. His yellow eyes wandered to Hermione and as he addressed her the military harshness had drained from his voice, "It's your job to slip into Hogwarts and organise the escape. You have to establish the Floo connections from the kitchens' fireplace and oversee the departure of the different groups of Muggleborns to their correct exit points. You think you can do that?"

A swoop of nervousness hit Hermione and she took in a deep steadying breath of air. In the end she gazed at Lupin and firmly nodded her head. A soft smile danced over the werewolf's face. Then he again turned to the whole Order.

"Okay," Lupin said. "I think we've covered our basics so far. You all know what you have to do. We'll meet for a final briefing when we enter crunch time."

"What about Black?" Longbottom asked, tone calm and unreadable.

The group's attention fell on Lupin but the werewolf didn't even bat an eye. In a steady voice, he replied, "Sirius will be there."

Hermione felt relieved to hear him say this. The Order members, too, seemed to accept it. With this the meeting was concluded. Before they could leave, Tonks raised her hand and carefully prodded the golden Cup on the table.

"You still haven't told us what you're planning with that."

All eyes now rested on the beautiful Cup standing on the table. Hufflepuff's crest was proudly displayed on the shimmering gold. Lupin had asked Hermione to bring the Cup to the meeting. She wasn't sure why. Probably to show the Order members that she could in fact successfully complete missions. Sadly, Moody hadn't been that impressed.

Hermione picked up the Cup and turned it in her hands. Hufflepuff's magic merrily skimmed over her fingers. A sad smile appeared on her face. Indeed, what to do with it? Hermione had no desire to keep it. It was too tightly knit with Tom's disgusting plan. She looked up from the Cup and her eyes sought out Greyback. The pack leader was still sprawled in his seat and wasn't paying much attention. Hermione grinned and announced

"Actually, I wanted to give it to you."

With that she pushed the Cup over to the werewolf. Greyback's eyes sharpened and he stared first at Hufflepuff's Cup, then to her. He cocked his eyebrows and said,

"Did ya finally lose ya mind?"

Hermione laughed. "I might have." Then she added, serious again, "Look, the Corps helped me a lot.  _You_  actually did. I want you to have the Cup."

Greyback frowned at her before he sceptically blinked down at the Cup. He grabbed it and the Cup looked quite delicate in his hands. Greyback turned it this way and that, claws scratching over gold. Finally, he looked back at Hermione and said frankly,

"Don't take me wrong, it's kinda pretty. Bu' I don't really need a posh mug?"

Hermione threw him a big grin. "I guess you don't know what the Cup can actually do?"

Greyback shrugged and suggested wryly, "Holding liquids?"

"Merlin," Longbottom sighed in exasperation. "How can you not know about the Cup of Hufflepuff?"

Greyback threw her a grin, showing his sharp teeth. "Ya people really think tha' fancy school of yours is the tits and beer of things, do ya?"

Longbottom narrowed her eyes at him in disgust. Before she could say anything, Shacklebolt jumped in and explained, "Hufflepuff's Cup is said to be able to turn water into whatever potion you desire."

Hermione nodded amusedly. "I thought that might come in handy. I hear the production of Wolfsbane Potion is quite expensive."

At that Greyback visibly perked up. "Aye. Also a bitch to transport. Wolfsbane spoils easily."

There was a new glint of appreciation in his steely eyes as he now examined the Cup in his hands. He glanced at Hermione. "Ya really wanna give this to me?"

At her nod, Greyback threw her a feral smirk. He put the Cup down on the table in front of him and eyed it contently. "Ya know. All of a sudden I think it was the right call  _not_  to turn ya into one of us the first time we met. Still a pity. You'd be a terrific wolf."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom was sitting in the library and blankly stared down at the potions textbook. He'd done that for the past hour and nothing was coming to him.  _Fuck!_  An essay about the antidote to Veritaserum couldn't be that hard, could it? Tom knew the potion – in fact he'd brewed it before – and still every time he tried to focus on the essay, his thoughts would scatter. He just couldn't  _think_. He was sure that if Hermione had sat with him, he'd have completed the essay in no time.

Thoroughly frustrated, Tom snapped the book shut. He'd just tell Slughorn that he forgot the assignment. Surely, the old geezer wouldn't mind. Distractedly, Tom wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers before he stuffed his things back into his black messenger bag. Everything felt oddly soft under his touch as if he wore thin gloves. He took in a deep breath of air to clear his dizzy head. Then he grabbed his bag and left the library. Maybe a bite to eat would do him some good. He felt like he was floating, walking on cotton, as he made his way to the Great Hall.

The noise was grating on his nerves the moment Tom entered the hall. He was barely able to hide a scowl as he stalked over to the Slytherin table. The other Slytherins already sat at their table, having dinner. Tom was thoroughly annoyed as they insisted to greet him. He barely replied anything and was glad to finally sink down on his seat. Hastily, he piled food on his plate. As he ate, though, his appetite abandoned him. The food was tasteless, like ashes in his mouth. His gaze brushed over the Gryffindor table and he wasn't sure if he should feel angry or dejected that she wasn't there.

"Tom?"

Tom almost sighed loudly. Dolohov seemed to be in a conversational mood. Tom glanced at the Slytherin beside him.

"What?" he said, reigning in his vexation.

Dolohov scanned him through calculating eyes. Tom's fingers tightened around the fork in his hand. He was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to stab the long teeth of his fork into Dolohov's neck. It would be pleasant to watch red blood soak into the other's pristinely white uniform shirt.

"Did you hear about Regulus?" Dolohov interrupted his gory daydream.

Tom calmly reached for his glass and took a sip of water. He deliberately injected a bored streak into his voice as he replied, "No. What about him?"

A nasty glint flittered through Dolohov's eyes and he replied innocently, "Apparently, he's gone. No-one's seen him in days."

"Is that so?" Tom shrugged his shoulders, feigning disinterest.

"Indeed." Dolohov leaned a bit closer to him. Cruel amusement twisted his words as he whispered, "You know, my cousin Eunice works for Dolores Umbridge, right? She told me they're already looking into it. What with Regulus' close relation to Sirius Black."

Calmly, Tom took another bite of his roast potatoes and chewed. He swallowed before he remarked loftily, "Then I guess the case is in good hands?"

"At least someone's doing something." Dolohov laughed disparagingly. "What do you think? Did little Reggie finally join his blood-traitor brother?"

Tom pursed his lips in faux contemplation. Dolohov's train of thought was exactly what he'd wanted them to think: Regulus Black had deserted to the Order of the Phoenix. The body was gone, so speculating was the only thing people would ever be able to do.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Tom finally drawled.

Strangely, he could get no joy from how well his plan added up. Instead it was a chore to arrange his face into a condescending smirk and sneer,

"Regulus always was a bit of a coward, wasn't he?"

Dolohov laughed at the slur but the nasty smirk on Tom's face felt like it was nailed in place. He wondered how Hermione would react if she'd heard him say that. She'd probably yell at him again.

"Yeah." Dolohov still smirked maliciously. "He's a little sissy to be sure."

Tom wiped his mouth and put the napkin down on his plate. His appetite was spoiled. Talking about Regulus Black had stirred up the memories of his last conversation with Hermione and the things she'd thrown at him.

Tom didn't like her being angry with him. Not at all.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The sun was already starting to set as Hermione walked through the forest. To her right, the Corps' wards hummed, marking the borders of werewolf territory. Cautiously, she followed along the ward. It wasn't long and Hermione came upon a huge beech. It was quite a bit taller than the surrounding trees. A rope ladder hung from the tree and disappeared into the green leaves of the crown. Hermione knew it led up to one of the look-outs the werewolves had built to protect their borders. She was feeling quite nervous as she reached for the ladder. Slowly, she climbed up until she reached a small platform. Hermione hoisted herself up on the wooden planks. The platform had been cleverly built into the tree's branches. A tarp in camo colours was spanned over it to keep away rain and to hide the look-out.

Hermione had no eyes for the construction, though. Her gaze was clued to the man sitting on the platform. Dangling his feet over the edge, Sirius lounged there and gazed over the green tree tops. He hadn't turned around to her even though he must have heard her climbing up. Hermione swallowed thickly. The last few days, Sirius had completely ignored her and she was afraid that he blamed her for Regulus' death. He'd be right to do so. She should've stopped Tom before it was too late.

Feeling quite lost, Hermione stood on the platform. Now that she was here she didn't dare address Sirius. Instead, she let her head hang, staring at the wooden planks. Sirius still didn't turn around to her. After a moment, though, he sighed and said softly,

"Come. Sit down."

He patted on the place beside him. Cautiously, Hermione walked over to him and slid down beside him. Her feet dangled over the edge and she grabbed to wooden planks tightly. Sirius' eyes once again were staring out over the trees and he wasn't paying her any attention. Hermione felt painfully insecure as the silence stretched uncomfortably between them. After a moment, she couldn't take it anymore and blurted out,

"I- I know I've said it before, but I'm really sorry. I'm so sorry about Regulus. And… H- he was my friend and I'm sorry I couldn't save him."

Sirius still didn't turn to her. There was an unreadable expression on his face. His handsome features looked painfully empty, his eyes jaded. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Then he whispered,

"It's not your fault."

The reply sounded horribly mechanic, hollow even. Hermione shuddered, heart squeezing in her chest. Tremulously, she gushed, "I- I didn't want this to happen. I didn't know Tom would- He had that crazy plan, you know. And there was that dark ritual."

"He needed a sacrifice?" Sirius noted colourlessly.

"Yes. Tom chose Regulus and he-" Guilt grasped Hermione tightly as she voiced what she'd suspected all along, "Regulus was my friend. And Tom didn't like that..."

"Riddle was jealous," Sirius observed, voice painfully empty.

Hermione cringed as she thought to hear accusation in his tone. Her hands balled into fists, she nodded her head.

"Y- yes," she whispered through trembling lips. "Tom… He's not quite right in the head. I knew that but I didn't think he'd go and… and do something like that. I'm sorry."

Sirius sighed and continued to stare out over the tree tops, eyes unseeing. Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line to stop them from trembling. Timidly, she glanced at Sirius. He was still ignoring her and Hermione wondered if she should leave now. Maybe he didn't want her close anymore; maybe he'd changed his mind about her.

Hermione sucked in a shaky breath of air, half a sob. It was then that Sirius threw her a look. Hastily, she bowed her head, casting her eyes down. She could feel his gaze on her and Hermione twisted her hands in her lap. She startled as suddenly Sirius put a hand on her head, gently running his fingers through her curls.

"You didn't kill him," he whispered, warmth seeping into his tone.

Hermione looked up at him in surprise. A sad smile stretched Sirius' lips and he said, "You're my friend. You know that, right? I don't push my friends away."

Hermione blushed slightly. "O- okay… t- thank you."

Sirius let himself fall back, so he now lay on the wooden planks of the platform with his arms crossed behind his head. After a moment of silence, he spoke again,

"Do you think he died…" Sirius swallowed thickly. "you know… easily? Without pain?"

Hermione stiffened at the question and was grateful that Sirius couldn't see it as his eyes had slid closed. She'd read a lot about Horcruxes and now her fingers tightly grabbed the edge of the wooden planks.

"Yes."

"Hmm," Sirius hummed and threw an arm over his face. "Yeah. I think so too."

Hermione had no idea if he really did. She didn't question him. Carefully, she laid down on the platform beside him. By now the sun had set and twilight had fallen around them.

"It really hurts," Sirius whispered in a low voice. "I don't know… We weren't close. Regulus and I. We never had the chance to get to know each other. And it still hurts."

"Why didn't you have the chance?" Hermione asked gingerly.

"My family," Sirius replied tiredly. "didn't quite like how I started to question things. The House of Black always was an advocate of the old ways. Blood over everything. Magic only for the Purebloods. Kill all the Muggles. You know the drill."

He turned to her and a slight grin curled his lips. "My mother would try to curse me whenever she saw me being vaguely nice to the Muggleborns in our household. Pff, you don't want to know how most family dinners ended. My mother is not a very kind woman. Things escalated. I was seventeen when I left my family." Sirius laughed. "Camped on James' lawn for a week before the Potters took pity on me."

The grin died on his face as Sirius continued, "I never missed my family. Not even for a second. Only Regulus... He was a good kid. I've always regretted that I left him in that house. Should've taken him with me." He glanced at Hermione. "Do you have siblings?"

"No," she replied quietly. "I don't think my parents wanted another child. But they died when I was nine, so who knows?"

Sirius released a long breath of air. "Yeah, who knows…"

The conversation lapsed as they dwelled on their thoughts. After some time, Sirius noted in a sombre voice, "I think Regulus hated me."

Hermione abruptly sat up and stared at him in shock. Vehemently, she denied, "No, he didn't."

Sirius threw her a small smile. "Nah, probably not. Regulus was far too good to hate anyone." He sighed. "But we never really were brothers either. I mean he was two when I left. I could never, you know,  _show_  him stuff. Like brothers do."

"I'm sorry." Hermione tried to console him, "But he was a brilliant student, you know. We'd always sit in Hogwarts' library and study together."

Sirius laughed softly and quipped, "See? That's what I'm talking about. I wasn't there and my own brother turned into a nerd."

Hermione chuckled. "He was really good at Ancient Runes."

Sirius smiled fondly. "I bet he was. He would have got so many NEWTs. And he could have become whatever he wanted."

"Yes. He could have," Hermione agreed.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

The bond still stretched tightly between them. Tom felt it All. The. Time.  _Always_. He wanted to sleep? The bond would continue to lightly bristle over his skin. He needed to study? The damned bond would tug at him now and again, always reminding that it was there. It beckoned him to follow. Like a siren's call it poured desire in his ears until its echo was all he could hear. He should crush the bond. He knew he could. But if he did, Hermione would slip away. She would forever disappear and the mere notion of that possibility left Tom in a state of constant agitation.

He sighed tiredly as he sat at the small desk in his room. His head had sunk down to the desktop and his forehead rested against the smooth wood. It felt steadying. Solid. Unlike his fickle mind, rubbed raw by that infernal bond. A few times already Tom had meandered into the Forbidden Forest and past Hogwarts' warding system. He'd been tempted to apparate to the werewolf colony and find Hermione. Almost he'd done it. Only he couldn't come up with a plan on how to get past the colony's wards or security measures.

_Pathetic._

Hermione wouldn't even reply to his letters. How was he to reach her? Tom nervously chewed on his lower lip. Maybe he should ask Bellatrix. Sirius Black was her cousin. If Bellatrix contacted him, Black might reply. Negotiating with the man would be difficult, though. Hermione had probably told him all about the death of his brother and the role Tom had played in it.

Angrily, Tom's fingers fisted into his black hair and tugged. Why was Hermione talking with Black but not with  _him_? His girlfriend and Sirius Black seemed to be quite  _close_. What was Hermione  _doing_  with Black? They'd seemed to be awfully familiar with each other.

No, no, he had to concentrate. Tom abruptly sat up in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. Back to his plan. Black knew about Regulus' death and the part Tom had played in it, so there was little hope that Tom would be able to talk Black into letting him enter Corps' territory. It still left him with the option to draw the man out, goad him into action. If provoked, Black would surely make a mistake. Wasn't he a Gryffindor after all?

†

To put his plan into motion, Tom first needed Bellatrix. The witch was frustratingly difficult to find.  _Typical_ , Tom sneered irritably. In the end he came upon her in a corridor in the third floor. Bellatrix stood with a group of Slytherin girls, chatting easily. As he approached them, some of the Slytherin girls looked at him with adoration, some with fear. Tom ignored them all and reached for Bellatrix' arm.

"I need to talk with you," he informed her harshly and pulled her away.

Bellatrix didn't seem to mind the gruff treatment. Tom manoeuvred the girl into an empty side corridor. Thankfully, most students were in their classes right now. Tom hesitated shortly and knitted his brow in confusion. Didn't he have a class as well at the moment? History? Arithmancy…? He couldn't quite remember.

"What do you want?" Bellatrix' sultry voice interrupted his thoughts.

Tom peered down at the witch. Bellatrix eyed him interestedly, slight smile curving her full lips. Pushing all thoughts of missed classes away, Tom concentrated on his plan. He charmed an attractive smile on his face and said,

"Bella, I need you to do me a favour."

Bellatrix giggled as she heard that. She enthusiastically bounced on the balls of her feet, wild grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Uh, a favour," she purred. "You know how I like granting  _you_  favours."

Tom didn't appreciate the seductive tinge in her voice, but didn't say anything. Still grinning, Bellatrix raised a hand and grabbed his chin. She turned his face first right then left, all the while inspecting him through dark brown eyes.

"You're lucky, Riddle," the witch told him happily. "So lucky because you see the world as it is."

Bellatrix let go of him and giggled cheerfully. "You can see the same things as I do. That's why I like you so much. You're not blind."

Tom took in a deep breath of air. He really had no time for Bellatrix' crazy ideas.

"Listen, Bella," Tom said, banning all annoyance from his velvety voice. "You have to do something for me. I really need your help."

He knew this would convince Bellatrix. The witch was always so willing to please. Tom knew she would instantly jump at the opportunity to help him. Sure enough the smile on her face widened and Bellatrix cackled.

"My help?" She bowed theatrically. " _Tom Riddle_  really needs help from ickle me?"

Tom almost rolled his eyes at her antics. His voice was still silky soft as he murmured, "Yes. You're exactly the person I need."

"Hm, it  _is_  nice to be appreciated," Bellatrix sighed. Then the grin abruptly fell from her face to be replaced by sadness and she lamented, "I'm inconsolable, but I'll have to decline."

It took Tom a second to comprehend her refusal. A deep frown furrowed his brow. The velvety tint left his voice and he sharply demanded to know, "What're you talking about?"

Bellatrix innocently fluttered her eyelashes at him and even her voice was sugary sweet, "Come on, dearest Tom. Did you think I wouldn't know?"

"I don't know what you're going on about," Tom hissed, anger rolling over him, and grabbed the girl by her arm. "I'm not  _asking_ for your help."

Even though his tight grip on her arm must hurt, Bellatrix laughed. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she looked up at him.

"Toujours pur," Bellatrix she whispered. "That's the motto of my family."

Tom gritted his teeth in annoyance. The girl was making no sense today. His fingers warningly flexed around her arm.

"I don't have time for your games."

Abruptly all traces of mirth fell from Bellatrix' beautiful face. The grin disappeared and her eyes grew hard as steel. She ripped her arm away from him and Tom could feel the witch's powerful magic rippling the air. His own magic rose to meet hers, furiously pushing it away. Bellatrix didn't care. Murderous look on her face, she pulled her wand. Her voice was cold as ice as she hissed,

"You don't even know what that means, do you, Riddle? Toujours pur." Bellatrix bared her teeth in a snarl, magic storming around her. "It stays untouched. It's a circle and the inside is pure.  _Family. Over. Everything_."

"I don't care for your stupid family motto." Tom brutally forced Bellatrix' magic away from him. "Family is useless."

Bellatrix fingers curled around her wand and there now was a lethal touch to her magic as it reached for Tom. Bloodlust danced in her eyes as Bellatrix whispered,

"You know what I am, Riddle." She pressed her eyes shut and repeatedly slapped the fist that held her wand against her temple. "You know. You know. You know." Then her eyes snapped open and she glared up at him. "And yet you think I wouldn't find out. Wouldn't guess. You don't understand at all, do you?"

"What's this even about?" Tom fumed through gritted teeth.

"You killed him!" Bellatrix shrieked and a torrent of her irate magic hit Tom. "You killed Regulus."

With an angry gesture of his hand, Tom waved her magic away and said, "So what?! He was a weak wizard. You know that. Why do you even care?"

"I  _don't_  care," Bellatrix snarled. "And I don't care what he was. I don't give a fuck!"

"Then why're you throwing a tantrum?" Tom inquired snidely.

Bellatrix' wand cut through the air and he had barely time to protect himself as a cutting curse almost sliced into his chest.

"Because he was a  _Black_." Bellatrix furiously hurled at him. "One of us!"

"You're being ridiculous," Tom decided. "Why this act of loyalty when at the same time your precious family is helping to bring down one of their own? How is trying to kill Sirius Black any different?"

The witch glared at him. Then she growled her livid reply, "Sirius chose to leave. Regulus may have been weak, but he never turned his back on the family."

Tom shook his head. "This is absurd. And you full well know it. Why protect someone who isn't worth it?"

Bellatrix didn't reply. She only stared at Tom, hungry sheen in her eyes. After a moment, she opened her mouth and menace sharpened her dark voice, "I'm no longer playing, Riddle. And if you come to dance again," Bellatrix stepped well into his personal space, head tilted so she could stare into his eyes. "I will rip you apart."

Tom sneered at her. "You think you can?"

Bellatrix cackled insanely and sung derisively, "You're invincible, are you? Sitting on your throne, what's your crown made of?"

"If you work against me, Bella, I'll cut you down," Tom promised, lethal touch entering his voice.

A sharp smile curled Bellatrix' lips while a mad glint burned in her eyes. She took a step away from him. "I always knew what you are, Riddle. I didn't care because I thought you're the exception. But here you are, ignorant to all that is pure."

Tom's hands balled into fists at her innuendo. "What are you trying to say?"

Bellatrix' steely eyes wandered over him and she decided, "You're dirty, Tom."

His magic crashed into Bellatrix. He grabbed her by the neck and violently slammed her into the corridor wall. His grip on her neck was vice-like as he held her in place. Murderous intention roughed his voice as he hissed,

"You're going to regret this. You don't know what I can do."

Bellatrix didn't try to throw him off, only her nose crinkled in disgust. "I do. I know. And yet, you're still muddy."

Tom pulled his wand. He wasn't going to hold back any more. His magic rushed into his wand, dark curse teetering from its tip. Laughing insanely, Bellatrix' dark eyes glinted up at him with excitement. Before Tom could attack, though, he heard chatter and laughter coming from down the corridor. How could he have forgotten? Classes were over and the students filed out of their classrooms. Quickly, Tom released Bellatrix from his tight grip. The girl sagged against the corridor wall, rubbing her neck, still smirking scornfully. Tom's magic was in turmoil, thirsting for blood, but he forced it back down. He stuffed his wand back into his pocket shortly before the other students entered the corridor, chatting merrily. Just before Bellatrix disappeared into the throng of people and was washed away by the mass of Hogwarts' black uniforms, she leaned a bit towards Tom. Words, sweet as poison, dripped from her lips,

"That wand in your pocket? It's not yours. Mudbloods aren't allowed wands."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed**

**And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.**

**(I think I made you up inside my head.)'**

**\- Sylvia Plath**

**(*1932 †1963)**


	38. Excalibur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus, people. I hope you haven't forgotten all about the plotline :$ anyway, here's a new chapter :D
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos! I appreciate it a lot. You don't even know XD Thank you. Of course, special thanks to the commenters :D KnowNonsense, Kilgharrah and Radicelle.

A sharp pain exploded in his hand and he felt the skin of his knuckles split open. The pain only managed to paint a vicious smirk on Tom's face. He pulled back his fist and again mercilessly rammed it into Flint's face. By now the Quidditch captain was barely conscious anymore. Helplessly, he was sprawled on the floor with Tom holding him down. Blood ran down Flint's grotesquely bruised face. With a satisfying crunching noise it was again hit by Tom's fist. Tom wasn't even sure anymore what had brought this on, but he couldn't stop. It simply was a rush to inflict the damage and he wanted to cave the other's skull in. He slammed his fist down again. Drops of Flint's blood sprayed him, ran down his pale face and his smirk widened.

Tom's frenzy was rudely interrupted as someone dared to grab him by the shoulders. He snarled furiously as he was pulled away from his victim. Magic flaring dangerously, Tom whirled around. Dolohov flinched and held up his hands in clemency. Grovelling, he tried to appease Tom,

"I apologise. But is this really the place…?"

It dimly registered with Tom that he was in the Slytherin common room. With a deep breath he tried to get his temper back under control. It was then that Tom realized most of the house was assembled. They were all staring at him with wide eyes, horror on their faces. A few first years even had tears in their eyes. A sneer formed on Tom's face. Still, Dolohov was right. Easily, Slughorn or any other professor could have walked in on the Head Boy beating another student to a pulp. Tom looked down at Flint, bloodied face barely recognizable. What had he been  _thinking_? Tom ran a hand through his hair, annoyance mounting up in him again. His gaze snapped back to Dolohov and, gesturing at the unconscious Flint, he ordered curtly,

"Clean up this mess."

Dolohov inclined his head and whispered sycophantically, "Of course, Tom."

Tom turned around and stalked towards the door. The other students jumped out of his way, frightened looks on their faces. Only one of them didn't seem shocked by Tom's behaviour. Bellatrix Black stood by the door with a mad grin curving her red lips. Throwing him a snide look and bowing theatrically, she opened the door for Tom. As he passed her, she whispered to him, scorn sharpening her words,

"Impressive. Interesting fighting style. Where did you learn that?" She mockingly raised her eyebrows. "So  _Muggle_  if you ask me."

Tom's hands balled into fists. He felt the violent urge to lash out at Bellatrix, but he curbed the impulse. This wasn't the place. But he would… He would… He was looking forward to it.

"I will kill you, Bellatrix."

The witch's smirk only widened at his lethal threat and Tom wanted to rip her apart right then and there. Instead, he just left the common room. The burning bloodlust didn't abate and as he finally arrived at the Heads' chambers, Tom was plagued by a horrible headache. He flung himself down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. His eyes slid closed and he tried to calm his magic down. It was a twitchy irritated mess and he had trouble getting it under control. Tom painfully rubbed his temples. What was wrong with him lately? He couldn't slip up like this. Not in front of everyone. He was Tom Riddle. The Head Boy. Talented, kind, _innocent_  Head Boy.

Tom blinked his eyes open. His head was spinning. He wasn't sure what was wrong. His magic felt strange. His thoughts felt strange …even his body. Something had shifted. It still did. He could feel it. Some parts shifted earlier than others. Some parts were there, some still left behind. And he couldn't  _think_. Blurry eyed, Tom stared over to the window. Everything was bright shadows that made less and less sense. He groaned softly as his magic again fluctuated. Everything came apart. And Tom knew. He knew the cause of it. He knew.

He  _knew_.

The little witch dared to mock him. Dared to  _leave_  him. She cut through all his plans. It was her fault the Cup was lost. Hufflepuff's Cup. Tom needed it. It was important, because he wanted to… wanted to…

A shuddered breath escaped Tom's lips. He felt sick. He couldn't focus. He needed to get the Cup back. Yes. He would force it from Hermione. And if he was forcing the Cup from her, he would be close to her. Always close to her.

_Hermione._

Tom squeezed his eyes shut.  _No_. It wasn't Hermione he was after. He really wanted Hufflepuff's Cup. Yes. The Cup, the Locket, the Diadem, Gryffindor's object. And Tom still had the Gaunts' ring. The Diary. Then he would get seven pieces. Just like he planned.

Tom groaned softly as his head throbbed painfully. Wasn't… wasn't the Locket gone?

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"Are the others in position?" Hermione asked nervously, probably for the hundredth time.

Lupin's hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder, and he replied patiently, "Yes. The teams took position at the Floo exit points. You only have to open the Floo from Hogwarts and sent the Muggleborns through. We'll do the rest."

He gestured at the group of werewolves just a few steps away. The five men and women were all dressed in the black Corps' uniform, waiting for their marching orders.

"Mine's the last group to leave," Lupin said in his raspy voice.

"O- okay." Hermione hesitantly peered up at him. "Do you… do you think Dobby could convince them? What if none of the Muggleborns want to leave Hogwarts? W- what if they want to stay?"

Lupin's yellow eyes calmly gazed at her. He wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her into his side. "Then you've done your best to help them, Hermione, and they've made their own choice like they're supposed to do."

Hermione swallowed heavily. A shaky smile curled her lips and she replied softly, "We  _all_  did our best."

Lupin cocked an eyebrow at her and inquired, "So? Are you ready to see old Hogwarts again? Ready to get your friends out of there?"

This time her voice was steady and firm as Hermione replied, "Definitely."

†

It was like a flash that ran through his magic. Even though Tom was asleep, the jolt was strong enough to shake him awake. He sat up in his bed, grabbing his head in his hands, and gasped for breath. His thoughts were a mess, once again jumbled and disconnected behind a haze. Now, there was one strand cutting through them like a rescue rope through murky waters.

It was Hermione. She was back.

.

Hermione crept through the Forbidden Forest. The trees were dark shadows around her and her black clothes made her almost melt with them. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she advanced on Hogwarts. This had to work out. They all depended on her. Ignoring the fear knotting her stomach, Hermione entered the castle. Shacklebolt would open the Floo connection exactly at 1:30am. That left her with little more than an hour to get to the kitchens and organise the Muggleborns' departure.

… _if_  they wanted to leave.

A concealment charm reassuringly prickled over her skin as Hermione pressed on, always downstairs towards the kitchens. The way was well known to her, but this would be the last time she ever walked it. She wasn't sure what to feel about that. For now she pushed all emotions away and hastened down another flight of stairs.

Hermione was still hidden behind her concealment charm and maybe that was the reason she wasn't prepared as suddenly an arm appeared out of no-where and wrapped around her waist. A puff of air left her lungs as she was pulled into a small side corridor. Panic crashed over her and Hermione struggled against the arm around her. She grew rigid as she felt her Dark Mark tingling. Eyes wide, Hermione blinked up at her attacker. There he stood, pale skin glowing with an ethereal beauty even in the darkness of the corridor.

"Good evening," Tom greeted in his silky voice.

Hermione sucked in a breath of air. Banning all of the upcoming panic from her voice, she said curtly, "I don't have time for you."

Tom's blue eyes scanned her interestedly while an eerie smile hovered around his lips. "Surely you can spare a few minutes?"

Hermione could feel the blasted mark on her left forearm throb warningly. It made her fear turn to anger and she snapped, "Maybe I can, but I certainly don't want to."

Tom wasn't impressed by her rejection. Never taking his penetrating eyes from her, he stepped even closer to her. Hermione refused to back away and glared up at him. Smug expression on his handsome face, Tom purred,

"I knew you'd come back, Hermione."

"I didn't come for  _you_ ," she lacerated.

A suspiciously kind smile appeared on Tom's face. Hermione jumped as his long fingers curled around her hand. He stood very close, blue eyes greedily wandering over her. She scowled at him and tried to pull her hand away from his grasp. Tom simply tightened his fingers around hers.

"You ran away the last time we spoke."

There was a hint of accusation in his tone and Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "Of course I did. You tried to use me for your evil schemes.  _Again_."

Tom's eyes were still fixed on her as if entranced by the sight of her. He wasn't going to just let her leave, was he? Cursing under her breath, Hermione pulled Tom with her and pushed him into the next best room. Quickly she cast a Silencing Spell on the door before she whipped around to the dark wizard, ready to yell at him. Before she could get a word in, Tom threw his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. He buried his face into her curly hair as if he wanted to be as close as possible, as if he wanted to inhale her.

"You're mine," Tom's quiet voice whispered to her. "Mine."

Hermione's brow furrowed. Hidden under the possessiveness, there was vulnerability. It was odd. Not entirely fake, but somehow misplaced. She tried to wriggle out of his hold.

"Let go."

Tom was very reluctant to oblige. His arms slipped from her but he again grasped her hand, not allowing her to take another step away from him. Hermione frowned up at him.

"Tom, this has to stop," she told him sternly. "We're not together anymore. You can't follow me around like this. The letters… You need to leave me alone."

At her words, Hermione felt his fingers tighten around her hand. Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "You're my  _girlfriend_. I know you needed space. But I have to stay in contact with you."

Hermione wrenched her hand away, temper flaring. "Are you kidding? After all this, do you really think I'd still want to be with you?"

A sharp frown took form on Tom's face. His voice got distinctly colder as he decided, "You  _are_  my girlfriend, Hermione!"

Hermione's hands balled into angry firsts. " _Penny_. I told you, I don't want  _you_  to use my real name."

Tom stared at her in outrage as if she'd insulted him. She supposed in a way, she had. He reached for her but Hermione stepped away from him.

"I won't allow you to run away from me again," Tom said quietly, danger lurking in his voice. "You'll stay with me."

"You don't even plan to give me a choice in the matter, do you?" Hermione bit out. "Of course you don't. I never had a choice when this whole pseudo relationship started either."

"What do you mean?  _Pseudo_  relationship?"

"Did you already forget," Hermione returned heatedly. "We weren't together because we both wanted it. No, you  _ordered_  me to be your girlfriend."

The Slytherin glared at her. "I did that to protect your cover story."

"So you admit it?" Hermione snapped. "It all was an act."

"No," Tom hissed acridly. "We really were together. We still are."

An incredulous laugh fell from Hermione's lips. "We're not. We can't have a relationship."

Tom scanned her and Hermione could see the upcoming fury swirling up the calm blue of his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

Refusing to cower away from him, Hermione said tightly, "Just look at us, Tom. We have  _nothing_  in common."

"That's not true," Tom spat.

"Are you blind?" she replied, anger spiking. "We don't fit at all. We share nothing. No interests, no plans for the future. There is _nothing_  that connects us."

Tom's magic angrily started to roil the air. Hermione bit the inner side of her cheek at the pain exploding in her mark. Whatever Tom thought about the matter, he didn't voice it. Instead he decided coldly,

"You're mine. I'm not letting you go."

Hermione shook her head at his delusion. "You don't have to let me go. I don't need your consent. I'm already gone. In case you've forgotten, you  _murdered_  one of my best friends. I want nothing to do with you."

A menacing gleam darkened Tom's blue eyes. "I told you that Regulus Black was a weak coward. How you're still clinging to him is disgusting."

"How dare you even speak about him?!" Hermione yelled at him.

"Maybe it's time you got over him?" was Tom's callous reply.

She couldn't believe her ears. "Do you even hear what you're saying?! Merlin, you know what? You're  _insane_." She shoved against his chest, making him stumble a step away. "Your parents were right to lock you away. The only mistake they made was letting you out again."

Tom's jaw was clenched as he glared at her. In trepidation, Hermione noted how a terrible red light seeped into his eyes. His voice was soft but for a threatening undercurrent as he replied, "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Or what?!" Hermione snapped, ignoring her racing pulse.

A strand of Tom's magic viciously tugged at her Dark Mark, making her hiss in pain. "I'm not crazy," he insisted in a low, menacing voice. " _You're_  doing this to me."

"I'm not doing anything," Hermione yelled at him in outrage.

"It doesn't matter." His eyes bored into her, the red gleam now even more pronounced. "You came back to me."

"I didn't," she repeated in frustration. "I have to deal with something at Hogwarts. It has nothing to do with you."

"I don't care what you say," Tom decided. "I'll keep you."

Hermione didn't know how to reply to his insane claims anymore. Tom didn't care and ordered sharply, "I want you to promise that you stay with me, Hermione. You're never going to leave me."

"Penny," she reminded him mordantly. "The name's Penny."

Tom's face contorted with anger, red eyes burning up, "I don't care what you call yourself! Are you going to promise?"

"No!" she snarled. "Why would I want to stay with you? You betrayed me in every way possible.  _I hate you!_ "

"No, you don't," Tom replied snidely. "You love me. You said so yourself."

Hermione stared at him incredulously. "That was before you went and tried to destroy my life. Before you murdered Regulus. Before you split your soul and turned into this monster."

Tom glowered at her, obviously not at all convinced. So, Hermione continued firmly. "It's pretty obvious that you don't want a girlfriend. You want your little slave girl back."

"That is not at all true," hissed Tom through gritted teeth.

"What do you want then? For me to come back to Hogwarts, so I can pretend to be a Pureblood again?" Hermione asked. "I'm  _not_ a Pureblood. I'm Muggleborn. Asking me to pretend otherwise is an insult. I'm with the Order now. I'm fighting so that  _no one_  has to pretend anymore." She threw him a pointed look. "I'm fighting for you as well."

The murderous red smouldered in Tom's eyes, balefully glowing in the dark room. "I don't care about the Order or your friends. I want you. And only you." For a moment he just stared at her. Then he simply said, "If I have to, I'll kill every single one of them."

The threat was stated so casually, Hermione had trouble believing her own ears. She stiffened and her voice shook slightly as she said, "W- what are you talking about?"

"You're mine." An insane smirk curved Tom's lips and he grabbed her by her shoulders. "You belong to me. I  _need_  you. I want you. You can't leave me. If you do, I'll find every one of your friends, one after the other, and I'll murder them."

Hermione's breath hitched. Her previous anger deflated and panic squeezed around her mercilessly. "You c- can't."

Tom smiled a terrible smile. "Oh, I can. I assure you. And let me tell you, I'll enjoy it the same way I enjoyed cutting Black's throat."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "No… no."

Tom laughed, red eyes gleaming, and he wondered sadistically, "I'm not sure who's going to die first. Your little Weasley friend? I've always hated that red-head. Or I'll start with her brother. I didn't like how he always undressed you with his eyes." Still holding her by her shoulders, he bent down and whispered, "Now I know, the first to go just has to be Sirius Black."

Fear swimming in her eyes, Hermione stared at him. "N- no. Please... Why are you doing this to me?"

Tom's hands left her and Hermione sagged into herself, trembling all over. The Slytherin scanned her through ruthless red eyes. "You are pushing me. I'm not making idle threats. If you don't do what I say, if you don't stay with me, I  _will_  murder them. You know I can. I won't make it easy for them either. They'll suffer."

Fear consumed her as Hermione looked up at the dark wizard. She could only plead pathetically, "Please, don't hurt them. I- I- You can't force me to stay. It's not going to be the same. What we had… it's gone."

"No!" Tom yelled at her, making her flinch. "It's not."

Red eyes burned up frighteningly. Still, there was a hint of desperation wrapped around his voice as he hissed, "It's not over. I'm not letting you go. Never. I told you, I  _love_  you."

The last words from his mouth perversely sounded like a threat, their meaning deformed and twisted into something repulsive. Wrong.

Hermione didn't know what to do. Terror wrapped around her so tightly, she could barely breathe. She stared up at Tom and the red colour blazing in his eyes was testament to his mutilated soul. If he had ever loved her, it was gone now. Consumed by this broken shard.

How could he still use those words, when he had no understanding of them? How  _dare_  Tom threaten her friends? Fearful thoughts clouded Hermione's mind. Suddenly, her wand was in her hand. Feelings pelted down on her, squeezing around her, making her choke. She raised her wand and panic bent her magic into a direction she'd never taken before.

"Crucio."

Tom hadn't expected this and she couldn't blame him for this lapse. She hadn't expected this herself. Her aim was true and the red flash of light crashed into Tom's chest. He sagged down on the floor and curled in on himself. Hermione watched as he twitched on the floor, screaming in pain. All the things he had done to her flashed by her mind's eye. The curse flowed through her wand and she felt powerful. Superior.

_He deserves this pain._

Just as that thought formulated in Hermione's mind, her wand sank. The Torture Curse was interrupted. She staggered a step away from Tom, eyes wide in shock. He was breathing heavily, but managed to stand up. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, running down his chin. His whole body trembled with the after effects of the curse.  _Her_  curse. Hermione watched Tom's struggles, heart racing in her chest. He had to lean heavily on the wall to keep his balance. What had she  _done_?! As Tom turned his eyes on her, they were still red. Despite this, Hermione knew she shouldn't have hurt him.  _Never_. Not this curse. It was wrong. She stared at him, horror ripping at her, and she wanted to apologize, wanted to make sure he was okay.

Hermione was paralysed, though. She took all the guilt and horrible shame and sealed it behind a thin wall of ice. Voice tightly controlled, she informed Tom, "People depend on me. I have a mission to accomplish."

With that she turned away from Tom. Carefully measuring her steps, she left the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Then all composure left her and she ran.

.

Tom's whole body ached as he watched Hermione leave. He didn't care about the pain from the Cruciatus, though, because as the girl walked out the door the stabbing headache returned to him. His head swirled and once again, his own thoughts got blurred. Tom couldn't concentrate, couldn't think.

He stumbled and had to lean against the wall as to not lose his balance. A shuddered breath escaped his lips. He felt sick. Confused. He couldn't focus. Hermione was gone again. And he couldn't think. Something was wrong.

What had Hermione  _done_  to him?

He needed to follow her. If she left, he'd be stranded like this. Weak and confused. If she'd taken his wand, he wouldn't have felt more crippled than he already did.  _Disgusting_. Tom tried to push himself away from the wall's support. Instantly, his head swirled even more and he sagged back. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek against the cool stone wall. Merlin, was this really her doing? What was  _wrong_  with him?

.

Hermione trembled all over as she dashed away from Tom. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. The curse still burned through her even though this time she hadn't been the victim. How could she do that? To anyone? Even Tom. He didn't deserve this. As Hermione finally managed to calm her panicked thoughts, she realized that she stood in front of the headmaster's office. Pulse still racing, she stared at the door.

Why had she come here?

Nervously, Hermione worried her lip. Then she checked her watch. She still had time… but why should she  _try_? Tom was a monster already. There was no point anymore. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, feeling painfully alone. She hated herself because she still  _cared_. After all this, all the things he had done to her, she didn't want Tom to hurt. Hermione's gaze wandered back to the entrance to the headmaster's office. She just couldn't allow him to continue. There was no way she would let him attack her friends. She knew she had to warn them. Her gaze wandered over the door. She could do even more than that.

Hermione pressed her lips into a firm line. Then she opened the office. Apparently, Dippet hadn't change his password yet. Unimpeded, Hermione could step into the headmaster's office. The room was plunged in darkness only the moonlight hesitantly flittered through a window. Hermione's gaze immediately went to the shelf standing behind the desk. Proudly displayed, a moth bitten old hat lay on that shelf. A small smile curled Hermione's lips. She remembered how she'd arrived at Hogwarts for the first time, scared out of her wits. That hat had been there and had told her she truly belonged here.  _She_. Hermione Granger. Not Hermione Rookwood. Confidently, the hat had placed her into Gryffindor.

Just as Hermione pulled the hat from the shelf, she was interrupted by a voice, "Hermione, it's nice to see you again."

She startled and whirled around. The office was still empty. A relieved breath left Hermione as she recognised the speaker. One of the Headmasters' portraits was awake. She stepped closer to the man. Auburn hair and beard, his clear blue eyes beamed at her. A small smile appeared on Hermione's lips.

"Albus."

The man inclined his head in greeting. Then his gaze wandered over her. "You look a lot better than last time we met. I hope life treated you well?"

Hermione's smile turned into a wide grin. "I got away. I'm not working here at Hogwarts anymore."

"Good for you." A happy twinkle appeared in Albus' eyes. "But then, what made you return?"

"I'm still hunting down the Founders' objects." Hermione raised the Sorting Hat. "I already managed to get Hufflepuff's Cup."

"Oh, how absolutely wonderful," Albus exclaimed merrily. "How did you manage that feat?"

"I had help," Hermione replied, enjoying the man's enthusiasm. "The Baron knew where it was hidden."

"The Bloody Baron helped you?" The portrait eyed her, looking quite impressed. "I must say you are full of surprises, Hermione. That man is not known to be of the helpful kind."

Her cheeks burned a bit under his praise and Hermione nervously fiddled with the hat in her hands. Albus' blue eyes wandered to the Sorting Hat and he arched a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Now you've returned to retrieve Gryffindor's Sword?" He stroked over his long beard. "I remember you told me about Ravenclaw's Diadem and Slytherin's Locket." His smile dulled as he added, "I also remember the reason why you collect the Founders' most prized possessions."

Hermione averted her eyes, all her trepidation rushing back to her. She wasn't sure what she felt about it as the word fell from her lips,

"Tom."

"Hm, yes. The dark wizard in your tale," Albus mused thoughtfully, his clear blue eyes regarding her calmly. "Judging by your continued efforts to claim the Founders' objects, you couldn't convince Tom Riddle to abandon his dreams of immortality."

Something heavy wound around Hermione's chest. She breathed in deeply as her thoughts danced around the wizard she had just left behind. She wondered what Tom was doing now. Nursing his wounds? Chasing after her?

"I tried everything, Albus," Hermione said softly as she stared at the hat in her hand. "I talked with Tom. I tried to reason with him. I literally begged him to stop. He never listened."

She gently put the hat on the desk and turned to the portrait. Albus observed her attentively, a sad glint in his blue eyes.

"I couldn't convince Tom," Hermione told the portrait. "He split his soul. I was too late." She inhaled deeply. Then she admitted, "I think I've given up on him."

At first Albus didn't reply. He just continued to contemplate her over his half-moon spectacles. Then a small sigh escaped him.

"I see."

There was sadness in his voice but by no means was he being reproachful. Hermione leaned against the desk behind her. She furrowed her brow in contemplation then she said,

"I did my very best to stop Tom from killing someone. I failed." She ran a hand through her curly hair. "If he really wants to commit murder, I won't be able to prevent that."

Albus nodded his head, sadness shining in his clear blue eyes. "No, you won't. Sadly, I speak from experience."

Hermione threw him a soft glance, but her voice was firm as she said, "Still, Tom certainly won't use the Founders' objects as Horcruxes. I destroyed Slytherin's Locket and I have Hufflepuff's Cup. The sword," She gestured the hat. "is right here. Ravenclaw's Diadem… I think he already turned it into his first Horcrux."

Albus tilted his head as he watched her. "Taking the Founders' objects won't stop Tom from using another object to place his soul in."

"No, it won't," Hermione agreed. Her gaze was hard as she looked down at the hat. Then her eyes snapped back at Albus. "but there's nothing I can do."

He nodded at her and replied in a heavy-hearted voice, "It's very unfortunate, but I think you are right. You have struggled with enough burdens already, you shouldn't add another one. Tom probably doesn't even know how much you did to save him. How grateful he should be. I'm afraid when he realizes this, it will be too late. The soul, like the body, can be wounded. Sometimes such injuries are even more painful than anything that could be done to our flesh."

Hermione bit her lip as she heard it. "I can't help Tom anymore."

Albus' gaze lingered on her. "What Tom has done left behind a huge wound. That wound has been ripped into his soul by magic. No amount of time can heal such an injury and it will continue to fester forever. It is a very high price he has to pay."

"It was his own decision," Hermione whispered.

She averted her eyes from Albus and swallowed thickly. Her hands tightened around the brim of the Sorting Hat.

"Whatever happens to Tom, now," Albus' kind voice said. "never blame yourself, Hermione. You did more for him than most people would have done."

"Yes, I probably did." A humourless laugh escaped Hermione.

For a moment neither of them said anything. Albus regarded her with a soft smile on his lips and Hermione was immersed in her own thoughts. After a while though she spoke up again.

"Albus?" she said and the portrait blinked curiously. "After tonight, I can't come back."

Understanding dawned in Albus' eyes, still he asked cautiously, "Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded. "And more."

"What do you mean?" Albus asked.

"I loved this school." A smile flittered over Hermione's face. "I loved coming here, learning new things. It was a nice life. I fit in. I had friends …but I never was  _me_."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Not Hermione Granger?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not welcome. I'm not even recognized as a human being here. Finally I can understand how wrong that is."

She breathed in deeply and had to avert her eyes from Albus' soft blue ones. Only then could she admit, "Sometimes, I think this world deserves to be burned down. And I find myself wishing I'm the one to hold the match."

Her brown eyes hesitantly wandered back to the portrait. "I'm too bitter. We shouldn't burn it, but this world needs a new beginning." A tentative smile curled her lips. "I finally found my place. I don't know if I can change anything, but I'll try."

Albus scanned her for a moment, then he said gently, "I consider myself lucky to have had the chance to meet you."

Hermione's smile brightened. "I'll never forget you, Albus. You are one of the few things in this world that convinced me it's not completely rotten."

Then she raised the Sorting Hat, put her hand into the hat and closed her eyes. This time she didn't doubt, she didn't hesitate. There was something solid in the hat, a handle. Hermione grabbed it. With one swift movement she pulled a silvery sword from the hat. With huge eyes she adored the beautifully crafted sword. The handle was adorned with rubies, gleaming merrily in the light. Its blade glinted and was razor-sharp. If there had been any doubts about the owner of the sword, the name 'Godric Gryffindor' was engraved below the hilt. Albus applauded her in delight. His eyes were full of pride as he looked at Hermione.

"I always knew that you could pull the sword from the hat."

Hermione smiled at him as she stood there with Gryffindor's sword in her hands.

"I think I've been right." Albus grinned. "You really are a lot like Nimue, the Lady of the Lake. Please, watch over the sword, will you?"

Hermione inclined her head. "Don't worry. Tom will never get his hands on it. I promise."

†

Gryffindor's Sword was securely strapped to Hermione's back as she finally entered the kitchens. Despite the late hour, the Muggleborns were still awake, cleaning up and preparing food for the next day. A strange knot formed in the pit of Hermione's stomach as she walked through the kitchens. She remembered how devastated and scared she'd been the first time she'd been here.

"Hermione."

A smile spread on her face as she spotted Dobby walking towards her. The man grinned and wrapped his arms around her in greeting. Hermione gladly returned the hug.

"It's good to see you."

The commotion made the other Muggleborns look up from their work. Hermione blushed as they started to crowd around her curiously. There were a few familiar faces. Mina waved at her smilingly. Winky stood right beside her. There was an angry glare on the woman's face. Hermione swallowed nervously and tried to hide her insecurity behind a shaky smile.

"So? This is it?" Dobby arched his eyebrows. "You're here to get us out?"

Hermione's attention shifted back to him and she nodded her head. "Yes." Her gaze flittered over the assembled Muggleborns. "How… how many of you want to leave?"

Hermione felt shaky under the other Muggleborns' watchful eyes. Maybe at least a few wanted to leave? Winky's hostile look didn't exactly heighten Hermione's hopes.

"We decided that the vote needs to be unanimous," Dobby said, voice unreadable. "We can't have some of us leave, while others stay behind. The ones left-behind might get punished."

"I see," Hermione whispered, hopes dwindling even more.

A grave look shadowed Dobby's face. "We've all been thinking long and hard. Your offer is very appealing. Yet also quite risky."

Hermione's stomach flopped. "I know. So… you don't want to leave…?"

Dobby stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "There  _was_  some opposition," His gaze wandered over the assembled Muggleborns and the smile returned to his face. "but in the end we really didn't have a choice. Of course, we'll come with you."

Hermione instantly brightened up. Laughing softly, she said, "I'm so relieved to hear that. I promise, you won't regret it."

"I'm sure we won't." Dobby's eyes glinted merrily. "So, what do we have to do next?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "I'll explain." She turned to the other Muggleborns, addressing them all. "I'm glad you decided to trust the Order and me. Let me explain the next steps. We think it's best to get you out via Floo." Hermione gestured at the kitchens' huge fireplace.

Winky scrunched up her face. "This fireplace isn't connected to the Floo."

"I know," Hermione replied patiently. "But we managed to get a Floo connection. It won't be open for long, so we have to be quick."

"Wot d'ya mean?" Mina asked. "We leev now?"

"Yes, we have to leave tonight." Hermione nodded and a murmur went through the crowd.

Dobby butted in, trying to calm his friends, "Come on, people. We talked about this."

"I'm sorry it's at such short-notice," said Hermione. "But it couldn't be helped."

"It's not like we own anything that needs packing anyway," one of the Muggleborns said, grinning slightly.

Feeling a bit better, Hermione continued, "I need you all to split into groups of around ten to fifteen. I'll open the Floo for each group to leave. You'll all leave for different locations."

"So now, we're not even staying together?" Winky sneered, looking disgruntled.

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied kindly. "You have to split up for the time being. It's much safer travelling in smaller groups."

"What're we going to do when we arrive at the other side?" came a question from the back of the crowd.

"People are waiting for you," Hermione tried to reassure them. "They're all members of the Order of the Phoenix. You don't have to worry, they'll take care of you and get you to a safe place."

The Muggleborns had a lot more questions that needed answering. As the time to open the Floo finally rolled by, Hermione already felt exhausted. Still, she was content with how things developed. Smiling slightly, she turned to the fireplace, raised her wand and waved it at the fire. A relieved breath of air left her as the fire turned green. Shacklebolt had kept his promise and the Floo was open. Hastily, Hermione checked her wristwatch. From now on, they only had thirty minutes to get everyone through the Floo.

"Okay." Hermione waved at the first group. "Please, step over here. You can leave now."

She watched as, one by one, the Muggleborns stepped into the green flames and disappeared from Hogwarts and towards safety. The minutes still ticked by, but Dobby and Hermione managed to stay on top of it. A tentative smile formed on her face.

"Looking good, doesn't it?" Dobby grinned at her.

"Yeah."

"How're you going to get out?" the man inquired while he helped a mother and her young child into the fireplace.

"I'll leave with the last group," Hermione replied and with a wave of her wand closed the Floo connection behind the woman and child.

Dobby laughed softly. "Yes. Me too."

As there was a little under ten minutes left all groups, save for one, had left. Feeling the excitement of triumph bubbling up in her, Hermione again brandished her wand and the flames burned up in the familiar greenish colour. She indicated to Dobby for his group to come to the fireplace.

"Okay. Let's do this then," Dobby smiled at her.

No more than two people of their group had managed to leave as the doors to the kitchens were thrown open loudly. Hermione whirled around, adrenaline rushing through her. In horror she watched how several men, wands drawn, flooded into the room. They all wore the same uniform clothes, black cloaks threateningly falling over their broad shoulders.

Before Hermione could react at all, one of the men slashed his wand through the air. A powerful curse rushed towards the Muggleborns. With a loud crack it impacted heavily with the wall right beside the fireplace. The curse ripped a big whole into the stone, debris pelting down. Winky cried out in pain as a stone fragment cut into her arm.

The men now all attacked and more and more curses were flying towards the Muggleborns. Hermione frantically waved her wand to cast a shield over the Muggleborns and the area around the fireplace. She flinched as the curses aggressively tore into her shield. Quickly, Hermione pushed more magic into the defence and turned to Dobby. The man was trying to help Winky, her arm bleeding heavily.

"You need to leave!" Hermione yelled at him, gesturing at the still active fireplace. "The shield won't hold for long."

Dobby nodded at her, eyes wide. Quickly he started to assist the Muggleborns through the fireplace. An especially potent curse crashed into Hermione's shield, making it flicker weakly. She bit her lip as she felt the shield slip.

Just as the shield flickered out of existence, the attacks abruptly stopped. Beads of sweat ran down Hermione's forehead as she watched her attackers form a protective semi-circle around the entrance door. Another person stepped into the room. Hermione's blood froze over as she recognized her. High-heeled shoes clacked loudly on the stone floor as the woman confidently strode into the room. Her short, plump body was clothed in a garishly pink tweed suit with an equally pink cardigan on top. A ridiculously tiny little hat sat on her mouse brown hair. Hermione flinched as the woman's beady eyes came to rest on her.

"So we meet again, little Mudblood," Madame Umbridge said, horribly sweet smile curling her thin lips.

Something constricted around Hermione's throat and she could only stare at the woman. Still smiling, Umbridge's gaze wandered over the Muggleborns who were huddled against the wall, terror on their faces. Unaffected by their misery, Umbridge's attention shifted back to Hermione and she reproachfully clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth,

"Still stirring up trouble, I see? Such a naughty little Mudblood."

Hermione couldn't form a reply, her whole body trembling. She registered that someone had stepped beside the woman. Fat smirk on his face, Draco Malfoy watched Hermione gleefully. Umbridge raised her thin brows and told Hermione in her terribly saccharine voice,

"I suggest you put down that wand before you hurt anyone. You and your little friends are certainly not getting away."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur:**

**But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm**

**Clothed in white samite, mystic wonderful,**

**And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him**

**Three times, and drew him under in the mere.'**

**\- Alfred Lord Tennyson**

**(*1809 †1892)**


	39. Vita Detestabilis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I bet you thought I abandoned this fic, didn’t you? But look at that: Here’s the new chapter O.O Didn’t expect that, did you? ;) I apologize for the loooong hiatus. I kinda wasn’t in the writing mood for the longest time. Do you know that when life just sucks all the energy right out of you? Or is that just me? Anyway, long story short, no writing juices for me for the longest time. Not even Tom and Hermione could convince me.
> 
> But finally, I finished the next chapter. I hope anyone still remembers this fic and is willing to read on. 
> 
> I thank you all for reviewing my fic :D I may be a horribly slow fic writer, but you’re awesome with giving me feedback. Thank you for all the kudos!!! And special thank you for the comment writers: Alicia, FreyaFallen, Garble, nordicdreamsndutchthings, Kiara, Nico_Gaiangelo, nogooddeed

Hermione could hear her own blood rushing in her ears and her fingers nervously flexed around the wand in her hand. Her gaze flittered over the woman standing on the other side of the room. The sweet smile on Umbridge's face was horribly out of place. Her soldiers had taken position around her, a menacing air floating around them. The tall beefy men dwarfed Umbridge in an almost comic way. The woman's pink tweed suit collided harshly with their black and olive uniforms. Panic tugging at her, Hermione threw a glance at the Muggleborns behind her. Not all had managed to escape through the Floo. A few were still here. Huddled against the wall, they stared at Umbridge's soldiers with fear widened eyes. Hermione's gaze collided with Dobby's. The man had his arms protectively thrown around a trembling Winky. Hermione turned back to Umbridge. The woman's cruel intentions were hidden behind a girlishly innocent smile.

"I must thank you, Mr Malfoy," Umbridge told Draco. "Your information turned out to be most valuable."

There was a nasty smirk on Draco's face. As he replied his self-satisfied gaze was fixed on Hermione. "Please, you don't have to thank me, Madame Umbridge. It's my civil duty to alert the authorities whenever I see a Mudblood creeping around places she doesn't belong."

Like a ton of bricks, realization hit Hermione. After her confrontation with Tom, she hadn't renewed her concealment charms. Her eyes shot to the Muggleborns. _It's my fault._ Draco had seen her running around the castle.

Umbridge giggled. "Still, your help is highly appreciated."

Draco bowed his head. "It was my pleasure."

Umbridge scanned him interestedly. "The Department for Observation of Magical Bloodlines always searches for dedicated staff members. If you decide to follow the call, I will personally support you."

Draco's smile gained a frighteningly hungry streak. "That is a very generous offer, Madame."

Umbridge released a laugh, the sound fake and grating to Hermione's ears. Then her cold eyes wandered to Hermione and her expression turned shark-like.

"Now, little Mudblood, what's it going to be?" the woman inquired. "I suggest you surrender that stolen wand."

Hermione swallowed thickly as her thoughts twisted into a ball of panic. She was all too aware of the Muggleborns behind her, held at wand-point by the soldiers. Hermione took in a deep shuddering breath, her wand heavy in her hand. This was hopeless, wasn't it? _…at least I can't make it worse._

"Dobby?" Hermione whispered, not turning around to the Muggleborns. "I'm sorry."

"At least the others got away…" Dobby tried to soothe her even as his voice shook with fear.

A mirthless laugh fell from Hermione's lips. "You could still…" Her fingers nervously flexed around her wand before she yelled the rest of her sentence, " _Run!_ "

With that Hermione slashed her wand through the air. A bright curse exploded from her wand's tip. Umbridge's eyes widened. Before Hermione's curse hit, the soldiers reacted and shields sprang up. Hermione didn't hesitate but sent more curses at them. Another wave of her wand and she spanned a shield over the Muggleborns, granting them some protection.

"Quick! Get out!" Hermione yelled, already firing more curses at the soldiers.

By now the soldiers mounted their counter-attack and a barrage of curses rushed towards Hermione. She threw herself to the side, sliding a bit on the stone floor. Through the corners of her eyes she saw the Muggleborns scrambling for the Fireplace. The shield protected them, but curses were pelting down on it. It wouldn't hold.

Again, Hermione brandished her wand. A bright curse shot from the wand's tip and hurtled towards one of the soldiers. It violently crashed into his chest. The man was flung away and grunted in pain as he made hard contact with the stone floor. Before he even touched ground, his comrades closed ranks. A flurry of curses was raining down on Hermione and she had to cast a shield around herself.

"Stop her!" Umbridge ordered sharply.

The woman had retreated. Protected by a thick shield, she and Draco watched the fight from a safe distance. Hermione couldn't pay Umbridge much attention as more powerful curses hurtled towards her. She gasped as they relentlessly crashed into her shield. She could feel her magic slipping. Hermione cast a fearful look at the Muggleborns. She saw a glimpse of Dobby as he helped a shaky Winky towards the Fireplace.

The soldiers pressed on and Hermione knew she couldn't keep them at bay much longer. The draw on her magic almost sent her to her knees. The soldiers never hesitated and continued their attack, cold and meticulous. Hermione's magic was stretched thin between two shields. It was all she could do: Protect herself with a flimsy shield and cover the Muggleborns until they had passed through the Floo. Hermione breathed out in relief as she watched Winky disappear in the green flames. Dobby was the last one left.

Hermione wasn't really sure why she hadn't expected it. She was taken completely off guard as one of the soldiers waved his wand and yelled,

"Avada kedavra!"

Hermione's heart squeezed in fear as she watched the green curse cut through the air. Everything slowed down, and still Hermione could do absolutely nothing to stop this. Mercilessly, the curse reached its target. A soft gasp left Dobby as the Killing Curse hit him in the back. The force behind the curse hurled him against the stone wall. Hermione couldn't breathe as she watched Dobby slip down the wall and slump on the floor. She couldn't see his face. He was just lying there, unmoving.

"No…" Hermione breathed.

For a second, all thoughts fled her mind and she stared at her friend. Then boiling hot rage rushed through Hermione. The anger infected her magic, making it storm around her in a dangerous cloud. Hermione abandoned her shields. Instead she pushed her magic through her wand and a powerful curse dashed towards the soldier who had cast the Killing Curse. The man erected a shield. With ease Hermione's curse cut into the shield, through it, and collided brutally with the man. He was thrown away, crying in pain. Hermione didn't stop to watch if he got up again, but again waved her wand. Her furious magic instantly obeyed and another curse hurtled towards her attackers.

Confronted with Hermione's rampant magic, the soldiers spread around her. Her magic forcefully roiled the air, fed by her fury, as Hermione lashed out at them. Hot tears burned on her cheeks, but Hermione ignored them and furiously brandished her wand. The wood had got hot with all the magic it channelled. An especially powerful curse crashed through one of the soldiers' shields. The man cried out as his left arm was cut open. Blood splattered on the floor.

Hermione's enraged magic still flickered in the air as she threw curse after curse at her attackers. Her magic was powerful, but her adversaries were trained soldiers. They knew how to co-ordinate their attacks, how to wear her out. While one of them attacked Hermione head on, another would sneak up from behind. Their attacks never wavered while Hermione's furious magic tired out. She got slower and slower.

Suddenly there was a loud crack. Pain exploded in Hermione's ankle. She cried out and crashed to her knees. Her whole left foot hurt unbearable. She tried to get up again, but it was impossible. The soldiers closed in on her. Hermione sent erratic curses at them, but she couldn't even stand up anymore.

"Expelliarmus."

The simple disarming charm hit Hermione and she couldn't do anything as her wand was ripped from her hand. In horror, she watched as it sailed away from her and over the soldiers' heads. A cruel smirk adorned Umbridge's features as she caught Hermione's wand.

"Tut-tut, little Mudblood. Did you really think _you_ could win? Against real wizards?"

Two of the soldiers stepped forward and harshly grabbed Hermione by her arms. She fought against the painfully tight grip, but in the end was overpowered. One of them ripped Gryffindor's Sword from its strap around her back. The other took her bag. Then the men forced Hermione up into a standing position. Black dots danced in her vision as she was forced to put weight on her left foot.

Smirk curling her lips, Umbridge stalked towards her. "I have to admit, that was entertaining to watch." Her gaze dropped to Hermione's wand in her hand. "You used this for quite some time, didn't you? What a shame. You soiled a perfectly fine wand."

With that, Umbridge took the wand in both hands and applied pressure. A snapping sound echoed through the room. Hermione flinched as her wand was broken in two. Carelessly, Umbridge threw the pieces at Hermione's feet. Tears burning in her eyes, Hermione glared at the woman. Umbridge gazed back at her, completely unperturbed.

"I knew I'd catch you sooner or later," the woman said, self-satisfaction dripping from her voice. "I've been searching for you, Mudblood."

"Why? What do you want with me?" Hermione snapped hoarsely.

A laugh escaped her before Umbridge replied, "Let's just say that you're somewhat of a high profile case."

Umbridge ran her pink fingernails through Hermione's hair. Contently, the woman said, "First, your uncanny escape from Smith manor. Next thing I hear, you've been mingling with Purebloods," Umbridge gestured at Draco. "gathering intel for this escape attempt, perhaps?"

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, not replying anything. Umbridge didn't mind at all. The cloying smile still hung from her thin lips.

"You aren't acting alone," she discerned. "A Mudblood wouldn't be able to plan even half of this. No no. You were acting on someone's orders. I think I have a good idea who that might be." Umbridge's fingers painfully fisted Hermione's hair. "You're the puppet of the Order of the Phoenix, aren't you? And Sirius Black is your Master."

Hermione bared her teeth in a snarl. "I don't have a master. I did this all on my own."

Umbridge giggled and released Hermione from her tight grip. "Don't worry, Mudblood. I'll make you talk. Soon enough you'll tell me _everything_."

With that Umbridge turned away from Hermione. Addressing her commandos, she ordered sharply, "Establish a Floo connection."

Hermione's whole body trembled as she watched one of the men kneel down by the fireplace, waving his wand. Panic cruelly tugged at her. Barely, Hermione noticed how Draco stalked over to her. This was all his fault. Hermione glared at the blond. The Slytherin merely smirked at her.

"Like a Mudblood could ever pull this off," Draco informed her arrogantly. "You're pathetic,"

If the two men hadn't still held her, Hermione would've punched that smirk off Draco's face. Instead she sneered at the Slytherin, "I don't care what you think of me. If anyone is pathetic, it's silly _spoilt_ little Pureblood boys like you."

At her words, anger contorted Draco's face. He raised his hand and harshly slapped her in the face. Hermione hissed in pain as her head was thrown to the side.

"How dare you?" the blond snarls at her. "How dare you speak to me like that? I'm your Master."

Hermione's cold gaze bored into Draco's eyes. "No, you're not. No one is."

Draco crinkled his noise in disgust. "You're a _Mudblood_."

She shook her head at him and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you really so blind?"

"Shut your mouth, Penny," Draco sneered. "I don't care to hear a Mudblood's opinion. You stepped out of line. And you're finally getting the just punishment."

"…just punishment?"

A mirthless smile stretched over Hermione's lips as she looked up him. The two men by her sides still held her in a vice-like, painful grip. Still, Hermione managed to lean a bit closer to Draco. A disgusted look crossed his handsome face at her proximity.

"You can't ignore this any longer," Hermione whispered to him, voice steady as stone. "I know you. You're not a murderer. Not like them. You need to finally open your eyes and grow up."

A sad little smile hung from Hermione's lips while Draco's face remained smooth as ever. Still, she could see his eyes widen a fraction as a look of discomfort flittered through them. He didn't reply anything. Finally, the Floo connection had been established. Hermione felt dread rolling over her as she eyed the green flames. Umbridge snapped her fingers at the two bulky men flanking Hermione.

"Take her. We're leaving."

Umbridge, still looking like the cat that got the cream, stalked to the fireplace. Before she stepped in, she turned to Draco and said,

"Your efforts will not go unrewarded, Mr Malfoy."

This time, Draco didn't reply anything. Hermione got a glimpse of his face as she was dragged to the fireplace. Somehow the priggish air had completely left the Slytherin. His grey eyes were flat as he stared at her. Soon their eye contact broke and Hermione was harshly pushed into the fireplace. She gasped as the green flames enveloped her and pulled her away from Hogwarts.

†

He could feel it the moment she left. Tom's hands flew to his head, fingers fisting into his black hair. Hermione was gone and Tom felt it, the emptiness grasping at him. Again. Again. _Again!_ His head almost split open with pain and he sucked in a sharp breath of air. He could feel himself falling into the emptiness. While he fell pieces of him crumbled away, turning him into nothing.

A soft groan left him and he squeezed his eyes shut. The nothingness still shone through and wouldn't leave him alone. Desperately, Tom grasped at the strand of magic that connected him to Hermione. It was stretched so thin, barely there. A jolt of panic hit Tom. What if it snapped?

_I need her._

At the thought a jolt of white hot fury washed through Tom. This was intolerable. He couldn't be dependent on a Mudblood. His hands balled into fists. Tom blinked his eyes open. In confusion he noticed that his magic had clawed deep marks into the stone floor. The heavy flagstones around him had burst, ripped up by his agitated magic. Hastily, Tom pulled it back to him. His hand shot to his mouth and Tom felt sick.

He hurried down the empty corridor and mercifully quickly found a toilet. Tom entered and just had enough time to rush to one of the stalls. His knees buckled and he crashed down to the floor before he threw up. His head swirled. He could barely get any air into his lungs as he retched.

As he was finished, Tom sagged down on the filthy toilet floor, breathing heavily. His body was sore all over, remnants of _her_ Cruciatus. The pain, though, felt reassuring when compared to the Nothingness. Tom tried to calm his breathing. He only now realized where he'd stumbled into. Of course… second floor, girls' bathroom. Tom sighed. On one of the taps – just a few steps away, he didn't even have to look – there was a tiny silver snake engraved into the metal. Tom had been so excited when he'd spotted that little snake for the first time. Now he sat on the floor, wearily leaned against the toilet stall, while he felt the stale water from the tiles soak into his trousers.

†

Sirius' heart hammered in his chest as finally the green flames burned up. His fingers tightened around his wand and he was glad to have Kingsley standing by his side. It took quite some time but then someone stumbled through the green flames. It was a gaunt looking woman, clothed in a shabby grey dress. A relieved breath left Sirius. Hermione had been successful.

Quickly Sirius stepped to the poor woman and gingerly helped her out the fireplace. She looked up at him with large scared eyes and flinched away from his touch, fearing pain. Sirius hated this part. He hated seeing the fear in their eyes, the desperation. He smiled at the woman reassuringly and whispered what she wouldn't believe him anyway, not yet,

"You're free."

Gently he handed her over to Kingsley. They'd set up their little hide-out in an abandoned factory hall. All Muggle of course. Sirius watched as Kingsley guided the woman over to their temporary little camp. A few sleeping mats and camping chairs were placed on the factory's cement floor. Sirius turned back to the green flames to welcome the next Muggleborn. He helped the intimidated young boy out of the fireplace and again handed him over to Kingsley. Sirius' heart swelled with pride as more and more people came through the Floo. Hermione had convinced them all. Of course she would. He'd never doubted it. A happy little chuckle left Sirius. He couldn't wait to congratulate Hermione on her first mission. More and more people came through. All in the same state of panic and fear like the first.

It was the last one that changed everything. Sirius saw the woman and instantly knew something was very wrong. Like the others she was scared, not able to utter one word. Unlike the others, though, the woman was injured. A steady flow of blood gushed from a deep wound in her arm. It already soaked into her grey dress. Sirius could feel fear slowly creeping up on him. Where was Hermione?

He helped the woman out the fireplace and sat her down on one of the camping chairs. She watched him suspiciously through frightened eyes. Fighting for calm, Sirius asked,

"What happened?"

Trembling all over, the woman just stared at him and remained silent. Panic ripping at him, Sirius wanted to grab her by her shoulders and demand to know where Hermione was. Of course he couldn't. Instead he pulled his wand which made the woman flinch.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sirius told her in a soothing voice and waved his wand over her hurt arm. Instantly the flow of blood stopped. "There. That's better."

"T- thank you," the woman whispered shakily.

"Don't mention it." Sirius smiled reassuringly. "What's your name?"

"Winky."

"My name's Sirius," he said. "It's good to meet you, Winky. Now, I need you to tell me what happened. Where is Hermione?"

Fat tears flowed down the woman's face. "D- Dobby… He didn't make it. He's dead."

Sirius tensed. His thoughts swirled and his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he inquired, "What about Hermione?"

Winky still cried but managed to whisper, "S- she saved us. She did. But they caught her."

"No," Sirius whispered hoarsely, shaking his head. "No. No, no. Please. Is… is she still alive"

"She was when I left." The Muggleborn, Winky, looked at him with sad eyes. "Hermione saved us. She stayed so we could leave."

Tears sprang to Sirius' eyes and he couldn't breathe. "W- who…"

"They got her," Winky told him the cruel truth with a heavy voice. "It was Umbridge."

Sirius pressed his eyes shut and could feel tears roll down his cheeks. He raised a shaky hand and ran it over his face. He wanted to do nothing more than to jump into the Fireplace and get to Hermione. But the flames burned in an orange flame, the connection closed. Panic tightly grasped Sirius. He couldn't reach her. Hogwarts was a fortress and he'd been locked out for years now. His hands balled into tight fists as he fought for control.

There was _nothing_ he could do.

Sirius struggled with the blind urge to rush to Hogwarts and search for Hermione. Everything screamed at him to leave, to get her, to save her. Still, Sirius didn't move. Aurors would swarm the place as soon as he or the Order set foot in Hogwarts. They'd probably taken Hermione away. If they hadn't just _killed_ her on the spot. He was powerless to help her. He wanted to scream. Yet Sirius was equipped with a mask of calmness as he stepped in front of the Muggleborns. His voice was kind as he addressed them,

"You are safe now. They can't reach you here. The Floo connection can't be traced."

He gestured at Kingsley and the man started to hand out proper clothes to the Muggleborns who were visibly shaken from their ordeal. Sirius waved his wand and opened the canisters they had prepared earlier. They were filled with food and bottles of water.

"We'll stay here for an hour," he told the Muggleborns, smiling reassuringly. "Rest. Eat something. Later we'll continue our journey and get you out of the country."

"H- how?" one Muggleborn dared to shakily ask.

Sirius turned to her. The woman barely dared to even look at him, a Pureblood, and even bowed. He'd never get used to his. Sirius smiled at her softly. "We'll get you out the Muggle way. We have a van outside." At her confused look, he added, "A Muggle vehicle. We've learned that the Ministry tends to not monitor Muggle traffic very closely. It's a fifteen-minute ride to Immingham. From there we'll get you on a freight ferry and twenty-eight hours later you'll be in Kristiansand, Norway. We have contacts there. They'll take good care of you."

Kingsley started to distribute the food and helped the Muggleborns settle down. Sirius could only watch numbly. As he was finished Kingsley stepped over to him. He put a hand on Sirius' shoulder, pressing it gingerly. Sirius took in a sharp breath of air. After a moment, he asked softly,

"Did you contact Signe?"

Kingsley nodded and replied in his deep voice, "Yes. She's informed and ready to pick them up in Kristiansand."

"The others?"

"All made contact," Kingsley replied. "Nothing to report. Everything went to plan. It was just us."

"Okay," Sirius replied colourlessly. "Can you look after them for a second? I got to step outside."

"Of course."

Sirius threw Kingsley a grateful look before he walked over to the exit. He stepped outside the abandoned factory hall. It was still dark and Sirius looked up at the night sky. The stars calmly blinked down at him as if nothing had changed.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Hermione tugged at the handcuffs that chained her to the metallic table. They wouldn't budge, reinforced by some kind of spell. Hermione's heart fearfully hammered in her chest and refused to calm down. She'd been here for hours and the small room started to make her feel claustrophobic. Bare walls, no windows, the room was cold and uninviting. The only furniture were the metal table, bolted to floor, and two chairs. Hermione occupied one while the other ominously remained to be empty. The only exit from the room was barricaded by a thick and heavy door, locked and bolted. Hermione released a long breath of air and let her head sag to the table top. It was ice cold in the room. Her clothes were gone and she had been forced into a thin chemise-like dress. Bare feet touching the cement floor, the chill crept up on her. Hermione stubbornly ignored the throbbing pain in her left ankle. She was pretty sure that something was broken.

She sat up again, fidgeting on her seat. Hermione had no idea where she was. The Floo hat spat her, Umbridge, and the soldiers out into a room, nondescript and bare like Hermione's current cell. The soldiers had then proceeded to drag her down a corridor. She'd been stripped and frisked. Then she'd been thrown into her cell. During the whole process Hermione had seen no windows, no hint of her location. Now she sat in her cell. Waiting. Hermione again tugged at her handcuffs. Her hands balled into fists to stop the trembling.

It was another thirty minutes later that the harsh sound of the door being unlocked made Hermione's head shoot up. Fear mercilessly flooded her. With wide eyes Hermione watched as the door was pulled open. In stepped two men. They were different than the soldiers that had arrested her. Both men wore grey trousers and shirts under black robes, not the battle gear of the soldiers. Hermione swallowed nervously as another person entered. The smile on Umbridge's face had a smug streak as her eyes wandered over Hermione.

"I hope you had time to cool down at bit," the woman said, fake concern lacing her voice.

Hermione remained to be silent. Umbridge stepped closer and sat down on the chair opposite from Hermione, legs crossed smartly. The ugly smile still curled her lips.

"Let's resume our previous conversation, shall we?" Umbridge leaned a bit closer. "Tell me a bit about your Master, Sirius Black."

Hermione's stomach constricted, fear threatening to override everything. She gritted her teeth and forced the feeling away. Not now. She could _not_ cave in now. Hermione forced a cheeky tinge into her voice as she replied,

"Sirius Black? Never met the guy. Sorry."

Anger flittered through Umbridge's eyes and the smile dropped from her face. A cold edge entered her voice as she suggested, "You better talk, little Mudblood. What I want from you is information. Where is Sirius Black? Where does the Order of the Phoenix hide?"

Hermione deliberately widened her eyes and whispered, the servile tone in her voice so overdone it was a mockery, "I'm just a little Mudblood, Mistress, how should I know?"

Umbridge's jaw tightened furiously and Hermione grinned. This wasn't amusing in any way, but evoking the woman's frustrated anger felt like a small victory.

"For the last time," Umbridge hissed threateningly. "Where is Sirius Black?"

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders, keeping her silence. Umbridge stared at her hatefully. As no reply came, she snapped her fingers at one of the men standing by the door. The man stepped over to them. Hermione suppressed a fearful flinch. Umbridge gave a sharp nod. The man raised a fist and pain exploded in Hermione's head. A gasp left her. Her cheek ached, the dull pain radiating through her whole head. Umbridge still fixed her with a cold stare.

"Where is Sirius Black?" the woman again demanded to know.

Hermione blinked, trying to get rid of the vertigo. Looking at Umbridge, she just shook her head. Again the man standing beside Hermione reacted. This time the blow hit her chin. Hermione's upper body was painfully thrown to the table. The inflexible handcuffs cut into the skin as they forced her arms into an unnatural position.

"Where is Sirius Black?"

Hermione didn't even look up, ignoring the question. The man grabbed her shoulder and yanked her up. Again he hit her. This time his fist collided with her abdomen. Hermione whimpered as pain erupted in her stomach. She had to heave painfully. Her mouth filled with blood. She spat out and the blood splattered on the metal table. Umbridge crinkled her nose in clear disgust.

"Talk," Umbridge's sneered. "and this'll be over in an instant."

Blood running down her chin, Hermione scanned the woman. Umbridge coldly stared back. Hermione ignored the pain and scoffed,

"You're wasting your time. I don't know anything."

A cruel smile distorted Umbridge's lips. "I don't think I am, little Mudblood. We're going to get to the bottom of this."

Hermione felt like crying but knew she couldn't let it show. Instead she forced a sneer on her face. The defiant smile on her lips was a mask as she looked at the man beside her.

"Hope you get your overtime paid," she sassed at him.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Hermione could've sworn she saw the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. The man's gaze wandered to Umbridge and he inquired,

"Can't we just call one of the Legilimens on duty? This'll take ages otherwise. It'll make it easier for everyone involved."

Umbridge frowned at the man. "She's a Mudblood. Legilimency only works on witches and wizards." She shuddered dramatically. "Why, Caradoc Dearborn once tried to legilimise his dog. Never been the same again." Umbridge's beady eyes wandered back to Hermione. "No, we can't use Legilimency on a Mudblood. Not to worry, though, she'll talk."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Only a day.

Only one day had passed since Hermione had abandoned him again and Tom couldn't get over her absence. It was worse than ever before. He cursed Hermione's name. Yet he guiltily enjoyed its sound as it fell like a prayer from his lips.

The world shifted now faster and faster. Tom ignored it and it would only gain in momentum. There was a bright light that outshone everything. It softened things and turned them into an intangible blinding mass. It was so hard to concentrate. Tom forgot things. Important things. They just fell away into the void. Maybe it was Hermione's fault. Maybe it wasn't.

"It's indeed very unfortunate that you were at the core of that unsavoury episode with the Mudblood, Mr Riddle."

Tom sat up straighter, forcing his wayward thoughts back on track. The contrite look on his face was a mask. Lately they came more and more difficult. Tom wanted to reach for his wand and curse the old idiot.

"I apologize, Headmaster," he instead whispered, painting the expected shame on his face.

Dippet scanned him through his watery-blue eyes. The man looked frail with age, hunched forward in his seat, while his knobbly fingers rested on the table top. Tom wondered when the old man would finally drop dead.

"It wasn't your fault," the old Headmaster soothed. "Don't blame yourself for that Mudblood's disgusting actions."

Tom's magic seethed and raged through him. With difficulty he kept it bottled up. Instead of cursing Dippet for daring to insult Hermione, Tom simply smiled at him politely.

"I should've noticed something," he whispered ruefully. "She was a Mudblood. I should've realized much sooner."

Dippet nodded his head, the last remnants of his white hair bobbing with the movement. "You mustn't blame yourself, my boy. It was all _her_ doing."

_As if I could be played like that_. Tom gritted his teeth in anger but kept the polite mask covering everything up. Dippet pointlessly re-arranged a stack of documents on his table.

"Unpleasant business," the Headmaster croaked. "But this is not why I wanted to talk to you, Mr Riddle."

"How may I help you, Headmaster?" Tom inquired, once gain reverting to his Head Boy act, always eager to help.

Dippet cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sure you've noticed that we are currently one student short."

For a second Tom just stared at the Headmaster, his thoughts swirling. Outwardly, he remained his calm and inquired politely, "What do you mean, Professor?"

"Well, it is a Slytherin," Dippet continued in his faint voice. "I'm sure you've noticed."

There was no beating around bush any longer. Tom pursed his lips in fake contemplation. "Well, Regulus Black has been absent for some time now."

Dippet inclined his head. "Indeed. Regulus Black. Do you know where he is?"

Tom didn't appreciate the line of questioning. Still smiling politely, he said, "No, sir. We all just assumed he had urgent matters to take care of at home."

Dippet sighed, "Sadly, that is not the case. It would seem that Mr Black went missing."

A surprised gasp tumbled from Tom's lips. "Missing? What do you mean? Did something happen to Regulus?"

Dippet sighed, "His parents reported him missing. Currently, Aurors are searching for him."

Tom's eyes widened in faux shock. Injecting a fearful tint into his voice, he inquired, "You don't think Regulus got hurt, do you?"

"As of the moment," Dippet replied. "we simply don't know."

Tom furrowed his brow, apparent concern covering all emotion underneath. "I don't understand. What… what happened to Regulus?"

Once again Dippet reached for his stack of documents and arranged them anew in an obvious attempt to stall. Tom watched the whole thing through suspicious eyes.

"That's what I wanted to know from you, Mr Riddle."

This time Tom didn't completely have to feign the shock on his face. "From me? Why would I know anything?"

"Well… you see…" Dippet avoided looking Tom in the eyes. "A concerned student told me, in confidence of course, that you had something to do with Mr Black's disappearance."

Tom's thoughts swirled. If only the piercing headache would give him a minute to think this through. He ran his fingers through his hair. The expression of shock still painted all over his face.

"I… I don't understand," Tom forced a rather convincing tremble into this voice. "Who would say that about me? I didn't even know Regulus was missing until you told me just now."

Dippet nodded understandingly. "No, of course not."

Despite this, there was dangerous doubt in the Headmaster's eyes. Tom couldn't have that. Looking thoroughly shaken, he said, "What… what exactly did that _concerned_ student say about me?"

Dippet released a long breath of air. "I can't tell you much, Mr Riddle, only that said student told me you had a problem with Mr Black. They were concerned you'd be responsible for Mr Black's disappearance."

Tom placed a distressed hitch into his breathing. At least Dippet hadn't called the Aurors, so he didn't completely believe this accusation. A wave of fury hit Tom. Who would dare tell Dippet? Tom leaned a bit forward in his seat. He gazed at Dippet intently and whispered,

"I- I don't know where this is coming from, professor. I don't have a problem with Regulus. I never had. We get on well enough. You can ask the other Slytherins."

"So you don't know where he is at the moment?" Dippet probed.

"No, sir," Tom replied, making his voice tremble a bit. "As I said, we assumed Regulus had gone home. His family always was troubled because of…" He stopped as if embarrassed to go on. "Regulus' _brother_."

A sombre look darkened Dippet's face. "Of course Sirius Black." Then he inquired, "Still, if Mr Black was absent for so long why didn't you ever inquire about his whereabouts? You're Head Boy, after all."

Tom bent his head, carefully arranging his body language so it would convey shame and guilt. "I… I should have. But you see, Regulus never talked much about… his family problems. I simply didn't want to prod into his private affairs."

Tom could see a hint of relief flittering through Dippet's eyes. The Headmaster leaned back in his seat, seemingly content with the explanation.

"No, of course not. I didn't think you have something to do with this, Tom, but I had to check. You understand."

"Yes, sir," Tom agreed, still displaying a dejected mood.

Now Dippet even threw him an encouraging smile and reassured, "I'm sure Regulus is fine and will return to us soon enough. Don't worry too much. After all, NEWT week is about to start. You know the whole staff is expecting great things from you, Tom."

"I don't know about that, sir." Tom forced a blush on his face and inclined his head a bit. "But I'll still try my best."

After that, it wasn't long that Tom was released. Thoughts still racing, he walked down the spiral staircase from Dippet's office. His magic raged inside of Tom. This had been too close. Where he usually was quick witted, the lies had come difficult today. But he would find them. Whoever had snitched on him, they would pay.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

They were like dark shadows descending upon her. They had no form, a black burial shroud wrapping them in secrets. It wasn't so much that they hurt her. Hermione didn't know if they even had hands to do so. And yet they were worse than pain. Her panicked breaths left her lips in misty clouds as she curled up into a tight ball on the cell's floor.

"Just let us know when you've had enough," a sadistic voice told her.

Hermione barely took notice of Umbridge, protected behind a silvery shield. The shadows floated in the air like smoke. Ever so slowly they drifted closer to Hermione. She whimpered in fear as the coldness increased to unnatural levels. The lights in the room flickered ominously.

Hermione flinched as she felt the shadow's shroud brushing her bare leg. So close. The fabric was silky soft but the touch sent sharp coldness over her skin. In panic, Hermione tried to skid away from the monstrosity, but her arms were tied to her back with handcuffs. She could barely move. The wraith was so close. Hermione looked up. As if sensing her attention, the monster turned to her. There was no face, only darkness. A sucking rattling sound escaped from underneath the hood. Hermione whimpered and shrunk away, squeezing her eyes shut.

Frost wandered over her. It clung to her hair and bit into her skin. Hermione couldn't move anymore. The coldness seeped into her thoughts. The monster's shroud was spread over her and her thoughts plunged into darkness.

" _You're worth nothing," Tom's silky voice whispered to her. "You never meant anything to me."_

Hermione gasped as the coldness wrapped tighter around her.

_Sirius' voice was full of disappointment as he told her, "I knew you'd fail your mission. You're just a Mudblood after all."_

"No… I tried. I really tried." Hermione pleaded with him, but he was gone already. In his stead was the wraith. It floated closer, pulling all warmth from her.

" _You belong to me," Draco told her priggishly. "You have to do what I tell you."_

Hermione curled up even more, not saying anything anymore. Maybe he was right.

" _Stupid thing!" Narcissa Malfoy yelled at her. "Can't you do anything right?"_

" _You're not worth half the money I paid for you," Lucius Malfoy sneered._

Maybe they were all right. Hermione couldn't even bring herself to care. There was no point to it anyway.

" _You're weak," Lupin decided cruelly. "I've wasted my time on you."_

_He was replaced by Dobby. The man sneered at her accusingly, "You killed me."_

Hermione whimpered. A heavy feeling squeezed around her chest. Wasn't he right though? It was her fault Dobby had died. She was weak and useless. She'd always been useless.

" _Yes," Tom agreed, cruel amusement lacing his tone. "So useless. I should've killed you right away."_

Hermione could feel a black mass growing inside of her. She stared up. The shadow floated even closer. It was so close, inches from her. Under the hood, Hermione saw glimpses of grey flesh, a distorted mouth.

_This is how I'm going to die._ The thought popped up in Hermione's panicked mind, in its rationality cold and cruel. It cleared her swirling thoughts. She swallowed as she pulled her thoughts back to her. Dobby wouldn't blame her. Maybe Hermione had let him down, but she knew him. He was kind. He always helped her. Just like Regulus. They wouldn't blame her. Neither would Lupin or Sirius. Hermione closed her eyes, feeling a bit warmer as she thought of her friends. She _had_ friends now, hadn't she? Hermione could see Sirius' and Lupin's faces smiling at her. Dobby's face swam into focus, smiling as well. Ginny was waving at her. McGonagall stood beside her. The Baron and Neville were there. Greyback grinned at her, showing sharp teeth. There was a man and a woman. Hermione didn't remember much from her parents. She just knew it was them.

Even Tom crouched down beside her, holding her hand.

He was smiling lovingly down at her.

Normally he wouldn't,

but here he could.

A voice drifted through the thick mist covering her thoughts, "This is not working, Madame."

A higher, shriller voice replied in annoyance, "I can see that. She is stubborn, I give her that."

Hermione could see a bright light through her eyelids. Then the frost retreated. Seconds before unconsciousness took her, Hermione heard Umbridge's voice,

"We have to take drastic measures with this one."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Hateful life**

**first oppresses**

**and then soothes**

**as fancy takes it;**

**poverty**

**and power**

**it melts them like ice.'**

**\- Carmina Burana**

**(early 13th century).**

 

 

 


	40. Padded Cell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, dear readers. I finally finished the next chapter. I hope you enjoy. Either way, let me now what you think about it ^^
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone who put up a kudos last chapter!!! I love you, guys. Special thanks to the commenters: nogooddeed, FreyaFallen, fortheloveofb, 30026401, Garble. You're awsome. Thank you for the support!!

To be honest, he wasn't sure why he was even here. There were a thousand other things he had to take care of. Just an hour ago he'd got a rather panicked status report from Bole. Apparently, the idiot had managed to lose one of his fireteams somewhere in the Algerian Desert. He should not have promoted Bole. Clearly, the man was a shit sergeant.

Greyback thrummed his fingers against the tabletop, long claws leaving scratches. Well, fuck it. At least Mitcham, the missing fireteam's corporal, was reasonably competent. He'd probably get his men out the desert. Still, the whole thing left Greyback mildly annoyed. The next time he saw Bole he was going to tear the bastard a new one.

"I contacted Signe."

Greyback boredly glanced at the man who'd spoken, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was a bit of a loner, that one, wasn't he? Greyback could never get a good reading on the guy. Very private person. Potentially dangerous.

"And?" Tonks asked, leaning a bit towards the man over the table.

Greyback scanned the woman with the crazy hair. At least Lupin had taste. She was a fine piece of ass to be sure. _Bit loud-mouthed, but you can't have everything._ And Tonks knew how to throw a punch which always was a plus in a woman if anyone asked Greyback.

"The ferry with the Muggleborns arrived in Kristiansand just an hour ago," Shacklebolt continued. "Everyone is well. The Muggleborns are being transported to the safe house as we speak."

Tonks exhaled in relief. "That's good."

Greyback silently agreed. Rescue missions were always a bit tricky, especially when civilians were involved. Too many unknowns. In a snap, things could go tits up.

Weasley nodded, relieved smile on her face. "So everyone made it out."

"Well, not everyone…" Lupin mumbled glumly.

Greyback scanned the captain. Lupin was slumped in his chair, looking defeated, with a pale face and dark rings under his eyes. Greyback felt the urge to snap at the captain to pull himself together. He held himself back. The captain's dejection, though unsightly on a Corps member, was understandable. He had lost a soldier in the mission. There really was nothing worse than that. Greyback had lost a few soldiers under his own command. It wasn't anything he liked to think about.

Black leaned towards Lupin and put a reassuring hand on the other man's shoulder. Greyback honestly doubted it would do any good. Black himself looked like death warmed up. Again, he couldn't blame the man either. After all, Black was the leader of his so-called Order.

In a quiet voice, Black inquired, "What else did Signe say?"

Shacklebolt cleared his throat and continued, "They plan to settle the Muggleborns down in different cities. They have connections in Drammen, Bergen and Trondheim."

Black nodded his head and commented, "We should contact them again tomorrow. See how it went."

The Auror, Moody, eyed Shacklebolt and asked, "Do they all want to stay in our world or did some decide to go Muggle?"

Greyback rolled his eyes. Of course that's what the Auror was interested in. The ones that decided to stay in the Wizarding World could potentially become allies to the Order and support future missions.

"Most want to stay," Shacklebolt supplied in his deep voice. "But a few want to go back to the Muggle world,"

Weasley sighed deeply. Then the woman added, "Well, no one can blame those poor people. Our world must seem like hell to them."

Greyback couldn't help but frown at Weasley. The world, Muggle or not, had always been a shithole. Whining would do jack about that. His claws again scratched over the table's surface. He really felt like snapping someone's neck. Maybe he should go hunt later. Might do him some good.

Longbottom glared at Weasley. It made a sharp smirk appear on Greyback's face. He'd always liked the no-nonsense woman. Coldly, Longbottom said, "The mission was a _success_. We saved a hundred Muggleborns. With only two losses on our side. Does that count for nothing?"

Her harsh words managed to jolt Lupin out of his depressed mode and pushed him into a furious one. Greyback watched as his captain shot up from his seat. His fangs were bared in a snarl and he sniped,

"We didn't lose Hermione! She's still alive!"

Longbottom kept her cool, even when confronted with a livid werewolf. Greyback's respect for her rose a notch. Frostily, the woman replied, "You don't know that. It's very likely that they killed her."

_Probably true_ , Greyback thought but hoped that he was wrong. He'd rather have the girl back in the barracks. _Unharmed_. Longbottom's callous words made Lupin lose his temper completely. The werewolf snarled furiously and would've probably thrown himself at Longbottom if Black hadn't held him back.

"Come on," Black whispered, trying to soothe the angry werewolf. "It's not Alice's fault."

Of course it did nothing to calm Lupin. Greyback chuckled at the two men, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. Eventually, he ordered,

"Captain, sit the fuck down."

Obviously, Lupin was still incensed, but he heard his superior's order and obeyed grudgingly, sinking back down to his seat. Black slumped into the chair next to the werewolf's. His face was pale, the pain shining in his eyes now even more pronounced. Greyback crinkled his nose and let his gaze wander over the other Order members. By now Weasley had tears in her eyes. Gingerly, her husband tried to console her. Tonks furtively wiped a hand over her own eyes. Shacklebolt just sat there stoney-faced with Moody at his side, not looking any better.

Well, morale hit rock bottom, didn't it? A sneer formed on Greyback's. He casually kicked back in his seat. After a moment of consideration, he opened his mouth and decided curtly,

"We have ter find her."

Now they all turned to stare at him. Surprise. Shock. Confusion. Greyback rolled his eyes at them. Of course Longbottom was the first to regain composure and sneer,

"It's too dangerous. A suicide mission. We'll lose even more people. And for what? We won't find Hermione."

Greyback just shrugged at her and replied nonchalantly, "No one gets left behind."

He stared them all down, one after the other, daring them to contradict him. The smirk was back on his face, baring his pointed teeth.

"Black, captain," he snapped and turned to the two despondent men. "'s yer job ter find out where the fuck the girl is. After ya found her, we'll consider our next steps. Do ya understand me?"

There was a second of baffled silence. Then Lupin seemed to remember proper conduct. Abruptly, he stood up and saluted.

"Yes, sir," the captain replied briskly.

Black, never having been a military man, remained sitting and just stared at Greyback with wide eyes. He still looked like death warmed up, but there was a new glint to his eyes. A man with a mission was always preferable to one without. Greyback doubted the girl was still alive, but now Black and Lupin had some kind of objective to pull them out of their depressed mood. If the girl was really gone, they'd have tried at least. And maybe… hopefully… Greyback was wrong and the girl was still out there.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

By now it was hard to tell if he was even here anymore. Tom brushed his fingers over the dark leather of the sofa. He barely felt the touch. It wasn't like he'd lost feeling in his fingers. No. The sensation was still there. It just… didn't reach him anymore? He wasn't sure. Tom raised his gaze and let it slide over the Slytherin common room. It was late and the room was almost empty. The younger years were already in their beds while the seventh years were still in the library, a last cram session before the NEWTs started tomorrow. Only a group of sixth years sat around one of the tables, playing chess. Their conversation was hushed and subdued. Now and then they threw Tom anxious looks. Their obvious fear of him only served to irritated him further. His dark glare and agitated magic eventually drove them to retrieve to the safety of their dorm.

As he was finally alone, Tom sighed and let his head sag against the backrest of the sofa. He stared up at the ceiling. Maybe he should go back to the Heads' dorms and revise for the start of the exams tomorrow. What a waste of his time. Tom ran a shaky hand over his face. However much he ignored it, it still hadn't left him. It was gnawing at him relentlessly. It broke things from him and threw them into the void. He was feeling not like himself. The numbness spread and so did the nothingness. What _was_ this? Would it stop?

He couldn't _think_.

Tom gritted his teeth. He couldn't slip now. This was his path, wasn't it? He was going to be on top. Just a bit further. He was invincible. A shuddered breath fell from his lips. He could not waver now. Tom just had to pull himself together. He knew he could do it. If only that empty feeling stopped clawing at him.

Tom war ripped from his chaotic thoughts as the entrance of the common room creaked open. He looked up and watched Bellatrix enter. Finally. He'd waited for the witch. Bellatrix immediately spotted the lone figure in the common room. A mad smile curled her full lips. Tom forced is lips into a smirk of his own. The girl walked over to him, sultry gaze wandering over him. The destructive smile still pulled at her lips as she plopped down beside Tom. In a light voice, she inquired,

"Were you waiting for me?"

The smirk on Tom's face felt nailed in place as he felt his temper rise. Fury raged through him and infected his magic. Tom wasn't in the mood to to play their usual game. He didn't see the point, so he abandoned the tight hold he'd had on his magic. Immediately the dark force started to roil the air around him, angrily wrenching at Bellatrix. The witch's eyes burned with an excited light as she felt the angry magic in the air. The scorn in her eyes collided with the fake concern lacing her voice as she said,

"Poor Tom, did something upset you?"

White hot fury burned through Tom, feeding into the nothingness. More collapsed. Parts crumbled away and he shortly wondered if they'd ever come back to him.

"You," Tom's quiet voice was infused with his cold fury. " _talked_ , Bellatrix."

The girl had the audacity to laugh. Tom's magic gained in momentum, the angry force now thick in the air. Bellatrix pursed her lips into a pout as she scanned him.

"Dippet called me into his office," Tom hissed.

Bellatrix blinked at him in mild surprise and chirped, "How awkward for you. What did he want?"

_As if she doesn't know._ Tom's magic gave a violent budge. His hands balled into angry fists, nails cutting into his skin. He felt the strong urge to punch the girl in the face. Through gritted teeth, he fumed,

"The only one who knows what happened to Regulus is you, Bellatrix. You betrayed me. You talked with Dippet."

Bellatrix shrugged lightly and flicked a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "You must be dreaming."

Tom's thoughts swirled and he could barely see through the haze of his fury. There was more and more falling away from him. He could see Bellatrix' scornful smile, but yet he couldn't _feel_ it. Like the brush of his fingers over the leather sofa, Bellatrix got hazy. Did she turn into a ghost? Tom sucked in a sharp breath of air. Carefully, he arranged his face into a cold mask as he threatened,

"You're pathetic. If you miss Regulus so much, I shall reunite you with him."

Bellatrix didn't recoil in fear. Instead, she scanned him attentively. Her arm was casually draped over the backrest of the sofa and she even leaned a bit closer to Tom. After a moment, a wild smile curled her lips.

"I'm dreaming, too, you know," she said, strangely cheerful.

Tom almost lost it then. He could feel his magic slip. A strand of it cut across the leather sofa before it ripped into the floor. Bellatrix remained unimpressed. She smiled at him widely and sung,

"I adored you Tom Riddle. You're like me. So similar. I met you and you were like one of my dreams. Just the same." A mad cackle left her. "I have so many dreams, you know, deep down. They're compressed. I think they're dark. But when I wake up, I can barely remember. And they've turned into beautiful shadows. Right here."

Bellatrix tapped her index and middle finger against the side of her head. Her gaze was still fixed on Tom, predatory glint in her eyes. He could feel her magic crackling in the air, already ripping at him. Danger lurked beneath the surface of that destructive smile on Bellatrix' face.

"Now you're _this_ ," the witch sneered derogatively. "No dream. No no. Not at all." Her nose crinkled and she shook her head. "Dreams do not make mistakes. It's because they're dreams that they float over everything." The mad smile fell from her face and her voice grew sharp, " _You_ betrayed _me_. Not the other way around."

Bellatrix raised a hand to Tom's cheek, almost touching but not quite. "Now I look at you and can't ignore it anymore. Are you trying to infect me, Mudblood?"

Tom's magic brutally slammed into Bellatrix and threw her off the sofa. He could barely control the rabid force. Tom didn't know if he even should. It felt strange as part of him dissolved into murderous rage and another part remained untouched and unfeeling. Either way, he sprang up from his seat, already pulling his wand. His anger fuelled everything and he could feel the process gain momentum. More parts of him crumbled away and fell into the void. Victims of that cruel nothingness. Through the haze, Tom watched Bellatrix climb to her feet. Her powerful magic pushed against Tom's. Tom blinked, trying to wake himself. His gaze shot to the entrance door. Could he do this here? He… he could be _seen_. He needed a second to think. _Just think._ But his thoughts still collapsed around him. Could he attack her here? He was invincible. He was immortal. Or was he the innocent Head Boy? What…? At this moment what did he need to be? Bellatrix didn't leave him time to collect his thoughts. She stepped towards Tom. A lethal sheen burned in her eyes. There was no playfulness to her voice anymore as she whispered to him,

"When you're ready, come to me."

Tom didn't react. He stared at her and felt everything drop around him. Without another word, Bellatrix left. Tom watched as the girl walked away. It was wrong. Didn't he need to do something? Tom raised a hand and his fingers fisted into his black hair, tugging. He needed to… _do_ something. He should… Tom watched as Bellatrix disappeared down the stairs to the girls' dorm. Tom licked his lips, swallowing thickly.

†

"Where is Black?"

"Where is Black?"

"Where is Sirius Black?"

Over and over. Always the same. Over and over.

She remained silent. There were Dementors, thirsting to eat her soul, and men, ready to break her body. Hermione wouldn't speak even as she got cursed. Again and again. Umbridge's smirking face was her constant companion. If someone had asked Hermione, she'd said that the woman enjoyed the misery she caused. Were there easier, less painful ways to make Hermione speak? Probably. Hermione wasn't sure what drove Umbridge. Twisted professional honour? The sick urge to see Hermione break? Or simple sadism? Whatever it was, in the woman's twisted smiles Hermione could always spot confidence. Time was on Umbridge's side. Everyone had a breaking point and the woman knew that.

Hermione curled up into a fetal position. Once again, she was alone in her cell. It was cold and she shivered in her thin chemise. Umbridge was gone and so were her henchmen. It wasn't anything unusual. They'd come and go at unpredictable intervals. Hermione pressed her eyes closed and hid her face in her hands. She took in a shuddering breath. She had no idea how long she'd been trapped here. Days? The lights were never switched off. It felt like months.

A soft sob fell from Hermione's lips and she hated herself for it. Her body hurt all over. She was sure her ankle, that had been broken during her capture, had been joined by more broken bones. Every breath hurt and Hermione knew she had some broken ribs. One of the brutal curses had hurled her away and she had heard a strange cracking sound as her head had been knocked against the wall. Hermione tried not to think too much about that.

She removed her hands from her face and reopened her eyes. The cell's walls were closing in on her and Hermione cried. She couldn't help that weak feeling in her chest. That feeling was creeping up on her and she couldn't shake it off. Maybe she was really going to die here. Hermione swallowed thickly. She would actually prefer that to telling Umbridge anything about Sirius or the Order. Fear twisted around Hermione's throat, threatening to suffocate her. What if Umbridge would get to her and she blurted out all the Order's secrets like an idiot?

Hermione's blurry eyes wandered from her hands to the Dark Mark tattooed into her left forearm. With her index finger she traced the black lines on her skin. Curiously, something Tom had told her on her first day at Hogwarts popped into her mind. _'You belong to me now,'_ Tom had said back then. _'And I do not tolerate failures.'_ A hoarse laugh fell from Hermione's lips.

In the end, he _had_ tolerated her.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could hold on just a little while longer.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom could tell it was the next day only because the sun rose. He hadn't slept at all. Since that conversation with Bellatrix, he couldn't pull himself together. It only got worse. When had this started? When Hermione had left? Or sooner. He couldn't remember anymore. Tom left the Heads' dorm. He just couldn't stop it. It chipped away from him and the nothingness grew ever larger. He knew he had to stop this, but he didn't know how.

Gritting his teeth, Tom moved. His steps echoing through the corridor, he started to walk towards the Great Hall. _Almost late_. Tom entered the hall. The four house tables were gone. Instead many smaller ones were positioned in the hall, all facing one direction. Most students already sat at the tables. Some looked nervous and panicked, others confident. Tom spotted Bellatrix. The witch didn't even glance his way. Tom felt the urge to walk up to her and slice open her throat. A smirk that wasn't his own curled his lips. He felt disconnected from the situation as his fingers danced over the handle of the knife he always hid on his person. He couldn't pull it now, could he? Tom's brow furrowed and he tried to blink his confusion away. No. What about the witnesses?

His gaze shortly slipped to Slughorn. The potions professor stood in front of the students. He had spotted Tom and gave his star pupil an encouraging smile. Tom returned it. At least he could feel the corners of his mouth move upwards. He walked to a free table and sat down. Mechanically, he sorted his quill, ink and parchment on the desktop. Not much later, Slughorn spoke up,

"Welcome, students, to your potions NEWT exam." Tom couldn't really concentrate as the professor rambled on. In the end, he heard Slughorn say, "I wish you all good luck."

Then the professor snapped his fingers and the exam papers flew towards each students' desk. Tom read his. His nose crinkled as he skimmed thought the questions. _So easy_. He started to write in his neat cursive. The stupid exam didn't serve to focus his ever swirling thoughts. Tom could feel himself slip once again. He couldn't do anything to stop it. His fingers tightened around his quill as he was carried away.

He needed to stop this. There had to be a way. Maybe _she_ could help. He could still feel that thin strand of magic that connected them. The bond between them. It anchored him. It just wasn't enough to pull him out. Tom needed _her_. After all this had started after she left him, hand't it? Hence, getting her back would stop this. Tom groaned softly as it got worse than ever before. He could barely concentrate on the exam. Worse than ever before, it ate away from him. Sitting in the back of his mind, it waited. Waited and waited. For him to make a mistake. He could feel it. It shifted. It wanted to rip something out of his mind, his soul, his body. It got worse. Always worse never better. There was less and less left. From what? From him? He didn't know. But he needed it to stop. If it left him completely, then it would be the end.

Tom took in a sharp breath of air and forcefully pulled his thoughts back. He glanced down at the exam paper. Once again he scribbled down the answers. His quill danced over the paper, spreading ink. He tried to concentrate. So hard. But his mind betrayed him and Tom crumbled. He felt like falling as his thoughts spun out of control. Furtively, he peered around. The other students were still bend over their exam papers. No one was looking his way. Tom raised a shaky hand and wiped over his forehead. He could barely feel the touch. He could barely feel anything at all. It had never been this bad before. He blinked down at his exam paper but everything was blurry.

Tom swallowed thickly. He just couldn't stop the downward spiral. Everything hurt. He needed _her_. He could see it. A white plane. Was this his destination? Where there was nothing, only pain. Nothingness. Tom could feel something constrict around his chest. Was he afraid? The world in front of him slipped away and turned into this void. It would welcome him and he would never be able to leave again. Everything transformed into nothing. The world around him, the thoughts inside of him. It faded away. With each minute. He got closer. Closer. He was sucked down into… So much pain! The Nothingness. What was it? What did it want from him? It was eternal. Ever present. He could see it, feel it. His mind was collapsing. He could watch it breaking down, into bits and pieces. Useless. There was no stopping it. He must not fall into the Nothingness. It was unforgiving. Could he ignore it? His mind would wither even faster. What would happen if there was nothing left? Why did that … eat away from him? Why? Why? Why? He needed _her_. Yes. She would stop it.

"Tom, m'boy," he heard a voice. Blurred this time. Overshadowed by the Nothingness.

He turned his head and looked up. Into a face. A teacher. Potions. He had always liked potions. No, he hadn't. He had faked it. Acted. Had he really liked it? He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't tell the lies apart anymore.

"Do you feel well?"

He forced a smile. "Yes, sir. I'm fine."

_I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine! I AM FINE!_

_She_ had said that. A lot. Always, it had been a lie. He was not fine. Could she not see it?

"Very well," Slughorn said with a reassuring smile. "I know you'll do well."

Tom might have nodded, might've smiled. He couldn't tell any longer. If he slid down further, there was no way back. So much pain. And fear. He remembered her voice, _'I don't want_ _you_ _calling me Hermione!'_ But it was such a nice name. Could she not take the pain away? Hermione? Where was she? Enchantress. Sorceress. No mere witch. She was more. She could bend it. Tom knew. The Nothingness. Away from him. Stop the pull downwards. She could do everything. And nothing. It obeyed her. Where was she? _Hermione_. He wasn't allowed to call her that. Yes, Tom knew. But it was an incantation. A secret spell. He used it. And the Nothingness yielded. Not for long. He needed _her_ to break it.

There were chairs scratching over the floor, people getting up. Tom looked up in confusion. The exam, of course. He stared down at his paper. He didn't even care anymore. He followed the other students. Mechanically. Like an empty shell. Because that was what he was. What he would soon be. He stepped out of the room. Great Hall. NEWTs. He left it behind. Walked down the corridor. And again it was all blurred. The people, students, the stone walls. The portraits. All hazy, like his thoughts. He couldn't stand it anymore. He had waited too long. He was going to find her. Now!

Down he went. First wide marble staircases. Then narrow, creaky steps. Down. Until he stood before a door. The kitchens. The Mudbloods were here. And Hermione. His Secret Spell. They would know. He opened the door. The room was empty. No-one there. They were all gone. Just like the Spell. Wasn't she supposed to be here? Tom blinked at the empty room. Was she…? The Secret Spell must be somewhere else. Desperately, he tried to find the connection that linked him to the Spell but he was drowning in his own thoughts. He could barely feel himself anymore. How… was he supposed to get to the Spell now?

†

Another curse hit her and Hermione doubled over. She crashed down on her knees and threw up. It was mostly blood but she wasn't really surprised.

"Why don't you just talk?" a voice asked her.

Head swimming, Hermione looked up at her assailant. The man was clothed in the grey trousers and shirt underneath a black cloak that Hermione had come to know as their uniforms. Still, she didn't know to which unit they belonged. She guessed they might be Snatchers, but the uniform was wrong. At least Umbridge wasn't here this time. No, the woman had left Hermione alone in the cell with one of her henchmen. The man looked down at her and Hermione hated the slight pity on his face.

"You're going to talk in the end anyway," he told her, smiling comfortingly. "Just spare yourself the pain."

Hermione tightened her mouth into a thin line. The man sighed as he saw the stubborn look on her face. Once again, he waved his wand. Hermione yelped in pain as a curse crashed into her chest and threw her against the wall. Weakly, she sagged down to the floor. She could literally feel the bruise taking shape where the curse had impacted with her. The man tilted his head to the side as he looked at her, still with that horrible pity on his face.

"You know where Sirius Black is," the man said in a gentle tone. "Just tell me and you're out of here. I promise I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Hermione defensively wrapped an arm around her chest and pressed herself against the wall behind her as she eyed the man distrustfully. Seeing this, the man sighed sadly. He took a step towards her and Hermione gasped in pain as he grabbed a handful of her curly hair. He held her in place and raised his other hand. White hot pain shot through Hermione as his fist collided with the side of her face. Again, her body was thrown to the floor. Hermione whimpered softly. Her temple ached horribly and the throbbing pain radiated into her whole head. She felt broken. Everything hurt. On top of that she was incredibly thirsty. They hadn't given her any water or food since she arrived here. She hadn't been allowed to sleep either. Hermione knew it was rapidly taking its toll.

She flinched as she felt a hand gingerly run over her head. Softly, the man spoke to her, "Believe me, I really don't want to do this. I much rather want to get you out of this cell and have you settled somewhere comfortable. Please, just work with me here."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the gentle, almost loving, contact. At this point, she really wanted to take the man up for the offer. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She just wanted to get out of here. Hermione bit her lips until the coppery taste of blood hit her mouth. The liquid felt almost soothing on her dry tongue. She remained silent. The gentle hand left her hair, accompanied by a sigh from the man. Hermione didn't bother to look up. It didn't take long and another curse crashed into her. Hermione gasped for air, her ears ringing. Painfully, she curled up, holding her aching side.

"You know what?" the man's voice told her softly. "I'll give you a few minutes to think this over. When I come back, you tell me where Sirius Black is. If you don't…" he sighed sadly. "I'll have to really hurt you."

Hermione shuddered. She heard footsteps. Then the heavy metal door was opened and closed again. The lock clicked and she was alone. Hermione knew it wouldn't be for long, though. The man would be back and he would make good on his threat. She whimpered again. By now her chest and side hurt unbearably. Maybe she had a few more broken ribs now. Her head was even worse, though. There was a constant sharp pain. Every time she blinked her eyes open, she saw things in doubles. Hermione ran her tongue over her parched lips. She was afraid that the man was right and she _would_ talk in the end.

Carefully, Hermione tried to uncurl from her position, but was instantly punished by even more pain and nausea. A long breath fell from her lips and she stopped moving. Fear wrapped around her and she tightly squeezed her eyes shut. She might really die here and she didn't even know where she was. There was no way she could escape. Not in her condition. And no one would ever find her here. Hermione felt strong magic humming in the air. It came from the heavy wards that fortified her cell. Hermione was completely isolated and cut off from everything.

Just as her lone and desperate situation crashed down on her, Hermione could feel a light tingle coming from her Dark Mark. The feeling was barely there. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open and stared at the black tattoo on her left forearm. It definitely tingled a bit. Hermione hadn't felt her mark react since she left Tom at Hogwarts. In all honesty, she had assumed Umbridge's wards were disrupting her Dark Mark. Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. It was very muted, but it definitely felt as if Tom was calling her. Curiously, that realisation sent a jolt of irrational anger through Hermione. How dare Tom still presume he could call her? The anger left her just as quickly as it had appeared and Hermione tiredly slumped on the floor. Her eyes slid closed again. There was the sick feeling of blood running from her nose and trickling down her skin. Hermione still felt that familiar tug in her left forearm, but by now it was barely there. A few moments later and the sensation had completely disappeared. Hermione trembled helplessly and felt painfully alone.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Tom sat in the Heads' common room and stared at the fireplace. He watched the fire burn while the world around him putrefied. Was he still breathing? He couldn't feel his muscles move; everything was numb. His Secret Spell was gone. He had tried, but it wouldn't come to him. How would he fight the Nothingness without it? More and more of his mind crumbled away. Soon there wouldn't be anything left and what would he do then?

Through blurry eyes he noticed that the fire in the fireplace suddenly burned up and turned a green colour. Tom didn't even bat an eyelid, disconnected from such emotions like surprise or caution. He simply watched numbly as a head appeared in the flames. He instantly recognized the black haired man. Sirius Black's head hovered in the flames and glared at Tom darkly.

"Riddle," the man greeted curtly.

Tom continued to gaze at him. He didn't manage to conjure any dislike for the man. No emotion could cut through the thick wall of lethargy that had wrapped around Tom. Black's eyes narrowed. There was disgust in them. After a moment, the man inquired harshly,

"Do you know where Hermione is?"

How he wished he did. Tom shook his head and said in an empty voice, "No. I thought she was with you…"

At his reply, anger flittered through Black's eyes. The man obviously wanted to yell at Tom. In the end, he pulled himself together. He opened his mouth and hissed,

"Umbridge. She took Hermione."

Tom tensed as he heard that. The new information managed to cut through his lethargy like a knife. Dolores Umbridge stole what wasn't hers? Taking the Spell away, against its will? What a sacrilege.

"Umbridge took it… _her_?!" Tom mumbled under his breath.

"That _disgusting_ woman!" Black cursed, not really listening to Tom. Then his eyes snapped back to the Slytherin. "Listen, you're still Hermione's master, right? You can feel where she is?"

"I..." Tom furrowed his brow. He'd tried, but everything was so hazy. The Spell's connection to him was hard to grasp these days.

Black glared at him, taking Tom's hesitancy the wrong way. Fury and bitterness battled in his tone as he snapped, "Believe me, you're the last person I'd want to ask for help. But you're Hermione's master." The man looked disgusted by the mere thought. "You can find her. We tried everything but we have no idea where Umbridge took her." Tom furrowed his brow as he saw the worry in Black's eyes. "We searched for Hermione everywhere. The usual holding centres for Muggleborns, the Snatchers HQ, facilities of the Bloodlines Department. Hell, I even tried to get intel from a contact working in body disposal… nothing. We can't find her." Black stared at Tom urgently. "You're the only one who can sense where she is. You need to locate her before it's too late."

Somehow, Tom had stopped listening as he heard 'body disposal'. His throat constricted and he could barely breathe. Blankly, he gazed at Black. What was he saying? That the Spell could… die?

"Hey," Black called in irritation. "Are you listening?"

Tom forcefully pushed the panic away. "Yes."

"So, can you do that?" Black prodded. "Can you find her?"

"I…" Tom hesitated. It was so hard to concentrate. "I can try."

"You better do," snapped Black. "Hermione doesn't deserve this. Have you any idea how important she is?"

Tom frowned at the man indignantly. What a ridiculous question. "Of course I do."

Not looking quite convinced, Black spat, "Locate Hermione. I'll contact you again."

Before Tom could reply anything, Black's head disappeared from the fireplace and the flames turned back to orange.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **I know I'm mad, I ought to tell**

**The doctors, let them care for me,**

**Confine me in a padded cell**

**And never, never set me free;**

**But Oh how cruel that would be!**

**For I am young - and comely too...**

**Yet dim my demon I can see,**

**And there is but one thing to do.'**

**\- Robert William Service**

**(*1874 †1958)**


	41. The Emperor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turns a bit gory a the ending. Fair warning here.
> 
> A/N: First of all, I apologize for the long wait. I think that really was the longest I ever had. Is Tomione even still a thing? lol I hope so, I still like those two ;) Anyway, sorry, you guys. I don't even know what happened. I just couldn't write anymore. Every time I tried it was shit. And I'm not being coy here. It really was shit. I thought, all that writing I've done before was just a fluke and now that's gone.
> 
> So, yeah, that was a thing. Anyway, I hope you guys still want to continue this story. Thank you all for being patient with me. To make it up to you I'll give you an extra-long chapter.
> 
> Thank you all who gave kudos! XD You're all awesome. And thank you to the commenters: FreyaFallen, nordicdreamsndutchthings, Lol, riskybusiness, Silver Lionness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie), meowmeow3000

' _Meet us in an hour at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.'_

Tom had found the message in the Heads' chambers. How Black had delivered it, he didn't know nor care. The Nothingness still ate away at him and he couldn't tell how much time had went by since he'd spoken to the man. Tom was unsure how to proceed. His flimsy connection to the Spell was still there. It was like a hand holding his head above the water, but only just. The Nothingness pulled him down relentlessly. It felt strange as his mind dissolved into it. Were thoughts finite or infinite?

Tom's hand closed around Black's message, crumbling the parchment. The Spell still protected him but he could feel its power slip. Soon, the Nothingness would prevail. Tom's eyes slid shut. The bond had grown thin like spider's web, stretched out and disappearing into obscurity.

Tom abruptly got up from his chair and threw Black's message in the fireplace. He grabbed his cloak before he left the Heads' chambers. He didn't trust Black but the prospect of finally obtaining the Spell brought precious clarity to his mind. Steps echoing purposefully, Tom strode through Hogwarts' corridors.

His steps led him to the Slytherin common room, guided by the call of the Nothingness. It was right. So right. There was something he had to do before he could retrieve the Spell. Maybe he shouldn't. Tom ran a weary hand over his face. Then again, what could stop him? There was no one who could. No one. A smirk travelled over Tom's face and he enjoyed to bathe in the feeling of superiority. He was crumbling and dissolving, maybe, but still better than the shadows wasting away in their own uselessness. On this, he concurred with the Nothingness.

Tom opened the Slytherin common room and the smirk still hung from his lips. Upon his entry, a hushed silence fell over the crowded room and Tom enjoyed their fear. He crossed the room and could feel the other Slytherins' anxious eyes following him. He hadn't come for them. They hadn't betrayed him. Tom wouldn't forget and he didn't forgive. As he reached her, Bellatrix didn't seem surprised by him seeking her out and a smile played around her red lips.

"Are you ready?" the girl asked, eyeing him from under her thick eyelashes.

Tom inclined his head. "Yes."

Bellatrix' eyes lit up and she giggled gleefully. She jumped up from her armchair and playfully swirled on the spot, curly hair bouncing. Then she reached for Tom's hand and pulled him with her out the common room. He frowned down at her fingers curling around his hand but still followed her. Soon they had left the crowded common room behind and were welcomed by the silence of an abandoned classroom.

Bellatrix dark eyes expectantly looked up at Tom, mad glint in them. He found that he liked them. A smirk curled his lips. Bellatrix' gaze interestedly wandered over Tom. Then she opened her mouth and said,

"Did you know I had a brother? A tiny little baby brother." She curled one of her locks around a finger and cooed happily, "So cute. His fluffy hair was dark like mine."

Tom narrowed his eyes and replied icily, "That's not why I wanted to speak with you,"

Bellatrix took a step towards Tom and the happy, innocent smile dropped from her face. Her eyes hardened as she whispered, "I know what you want to speak about. Then speak: Why did you kill Regulus?"

Tom flashed his white teeth in a scornful smirk. "Because I wanted to."

"Why did you _want_ to? Tom?" Fury stormed in Bellatrix' eyes and she snarled, "Can't you see? Don't you know?" She ran a long nailed finger up Tom's chest and hissed, "It's everything. Family. Blood."

"Not this again," Tom cruelly scoffed. "Regulus wasn't _my_ blood. Even if, you're being delusional if you think I care at all."

The fury dropped from Bellatrix and she laughed, mad glint in her dark eyes. "No one cares. Everyone cares."

Fed up with her insanity, Tom pulled his wand. "I'm here because you betrayed me. You talked with Dippet."

Bellatrix arched an unimpressed eyebrow. Completely discarding the angry magic bristling around the tip of Tom's wand, the girl leaned towards him. In a soft voice, she whispered, "You know what happened to my baby brother?" A smile twisted her red lips. "He wasn't my blood after all. There was no magic." A disgusted look etched its way on her features, dispelling the smile. "None!" Bellatrix spat. "I held him like a brother and he didn't belong. He did not."

Tom's eyes narrowed and his angry magic crackled around him. His voice dripped from his lips like poison, "I don't care about your squib brother."

Bellatrix sneered at him, "You should. It explains. My brother wasn't family and now he is gone. He didn't have the right, but Regulus did. He belonged." She tugged at a strand of her locks. "Do you belong, Tom?"

"Stop with this nonsense," Tom replied cuttingly. "Regulus was a pathetic excuse for a wizard. We both know it."

Bellatrix nodded. "He was weak, yes. But you know what? He was our blood." She leaned closer, eyes boring into Tom's. " _You_ don't belong, Mudblood."

Tom's magic reacted on its own. It slammed into Bellatrix and tightly curled around her, holding her in place. Tom didn't touch her, but stepped closer. His magic alone was enough to brutally keep her in place. The angry force stormed around him and Tom enjoyed the singlemindedness. That's why he was here. No talking. Everything still shifted and his mind crumbled around him like decaying flesh. Bellatrix couldn't be so blind. Tom _needed_ her. He took a step towards the witch, standing close enough to feel the her breath fanning over his face.

"I'm not like you," Tom whispered softly. "You always say that I am. But I'm not. Not anymore."

Tom raised a hand and ran his fingers gently through Bellatrix' silky hair. Bending even closer, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Against her skin, he breathed,

"You stand at the edge. I jumped."

Tom straightened up. Bellatrix' brown eyes stared up at him for a moment. Then the anger suddenly dropped from her. She tilted her head to the side as if seeing him for the first time. Mesmerised by him, a smile curled her full lips. The previous disgust had left her completely, forgotten as awe was painted on her beautiful face.

"You did?" Bellatrix asked, eager admiration lacing her tone once again. "You didn't _fall_?" Tom inclined his head. A mad laugh fell from the witch's lips. "What did you see?"

Tom shook his head. "Nothing." A deep furrow appeared between his eyebrows. "Just _Nothing_."

Bellatrix looked up at him in confusion. "Are you sure?"

Tom's blue eyes gazed down at the witch. His magic still held her in place. He could feel where the force connected with her warm body. It clashed. Everything clashed. Tom's pale wand still lightly lay in his hand. He raised his wand and gently pushed it into Bellatrix' chest. Tom stared into her brown eyes as he opened his mouth and whispered,

"Avada kedavra."

The witch's eyes widened a fraction in shock. A surprised gasp fell from her lips. Then there was nothing. Tom's magic released her, and with a soft rustling sound Bellatrix fell to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. Tom watched the whole process and a strange happiness blossomed in the pit of his stomach. It spread and painted a content smile on his face. Of all his followers, he'd always liked Bellatrix most. She'd been the best. He didn't have any, but Bellatrix Black had certainly come closest to being a friend. Tom's blue eyes fondly wandered over her. He was glad she'd understood.

Tom again waved his wand and Bellatrix' body shrunk. He watched on as his magic transfigured her until a tiny bone bead lay on the corridor floor. Tom stooped down and picked it up. He conjured a silver chain and threaded it through the bone bead. Then Tom clasped it around his neck. He could feel the bone bead resting against his chest. It was a comfort in a sea of confusion.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"We shouldn't be here," Lupin growled under his breath.

The werewolf crouched on the floor, yellow eyes gazing at Hogwarts' castle. Sirius sighed deeply,

"I know. But he's our only chance to find her."

At his reply, he could see Lupin's fingers ball into an angry fist, ripping a handful moss from the wet forest floor. A snarl appeared on the werewolf's face.

"I want to kill him," Lupin hissed darkly.

At this very moment, Sirius could understand why werewolves were feared. A mirthless smile flittered over his face and he replied,

"I know that, too. But what else is there left to do? We tried finding her."

"I don't know," Lupin growled irately. He got up from his crouched position, eyes still trained on the castle. "We can't trust him. He's going to betray us. Just like he betrayed _her_."

"He's right," Moody butted into the conversation.

Sirius peered at the older man. Moody leaned on his staff. One of his eyes was directed at Sirius. The artificial one swirled around and Sirius couldn't even guess what it saw. Lupin and Moody were both right. Dread knotted up Sirius' stomach. It had been there since Hermione disappeared. _…since I_ _lost_ _her._

"We won't let Riddle get the better of us," Sirius replied firmly, trying to hide his own doubts.

Lupin's agitated magic continued to swirl around him and Moody merely sniffed at Sirius, clearly unconvinced. A sigh left Sirius. Of course, he wouldn't be able to convince them.

"Are the others still at HQ?" he asked Moody.

"Yes," Moody replied curtly. "All of them, aside from Kingsely. He's still at the Ministry."

Sirius nodded shortly. He'd told Alice, Kingsley, Tonks and the Weasleys to sit this one out. Riddle mustn't see the other members. They needed to keep their covers. Being caught with the leader of the Order of the Phoenix would probably jeopardize that. Sirius smirked wryly.

"You should leave too," he told Moody tonelessly.

The man simply shrugged. "Yeah, probably should."

He still didn't move. Sirius grinned. He wanted to reply something but was startled by one of Lupin's men suddenly stepping out of the thicket of the Forbidden Forest. _Merlin, still creepy_ , Sirius thought as he eyed the werewolf in the greenish uniform. The man leaned towards Lupin, telling him something. Lupin nodded. Then he turned to Sirius.

"He's coming."

Sirius swallowed nervously. "Alone?"

The werewolf in the green uniform nodded. "Yes, sir."

Sirius rubbed his hands over the fabric of his jeans. He felt sick. He didn't want to meet the man face to face. Sirius shook his head, trying to get rid of his doubts. _This is for Hermione_. Lupin's man had been right, of course. Just a few minutes later, Sirius spotted a figure walking towards them. He immediately recognized Riddle. The man was clothed in a black cloak. Underneath, Sirius saw plain clothes. He'd somehow expected a Slytherin uniform. Riddle's magic stifled the air around him as he finally reached them. Sirius stared at Riddle's pale, expressionless face and he could barely hold himself back. Images of Regulus flashed through his mind and his hand wandered to the wand in his pocket. A hand on his shoulder and a calm voice in his ear brought him back.

"Keep it together," Lupin's rough voice whispered to him. "We need him."

Sirius' fingers released their tight hold of his wand. He sucked in a sharp breath of air. _Hermione_. Hermione needed their help. Sirius pushed that ball of inconsolable fury into a back corner of his mind. _Not now_.

"Riddle," he greeted that murderer. "Could you find her?"

The dark wizard's face was unreadable as his gaze landed on Sirius. Sirius gritted his teeth. His whole body was tense to the point that it hurt. Barely noticeable, Riddle gave a nod. Sirius released a puff of air. There was still hope. His throat felt raw as he inquired,

"Where is she?"

Riddle's eyes were strangely empty as they gazed at Sirius. They looked glassy and dead. Sirius shuddered. Something was terribly wrong with Riddle. It made Sirius sick how they were dependant on him.

"I can't tell," Riddle finally replied in a voice cold as ice. "I can only follow the bond and see where it leads me."

Sirius' hands balled into tight fists. Was this a cruel trick? Was it a lie? He hadn't planned to take Riddle with them. He didn't want this murderer anywhere close. At that moment, Sirius _needed_ to kill Riddle. He wanted to throttle the life out of that blank, disgusting wizard and he'd do it with his bare hands. The rage was unbearable. It threatened to choke Sirius but he kept it from his voice,

"Will you lead us to her?"

Again, there was an odd lag in Riddle's reply. It wasn't long, barely a few seconds, but it was still noticeable. Sirius could tell that Riddle wasn't stalling to ponder his answer. No, it was as if time was distorted around Riddle.

"Yes," the dark wizard said in the same passionless voice.

_Hollow_. The word suddenly spooked through Sirius' head. Riddle was hollow. There was nothing to him. Sirius' nose crinkled in disgust. It didn't matter. They needed to get Hermione back. After that, he'd never waste any thought on this repugnant excuse of a man ever again.

"Then let's go," Sirius growled. "We have to get Hermione."

A small frown appeared between Riddle's eyebrows as if he needed to remember who Hermione exactly was. Sirius wanted to punch him and see the blood covering that blank face.

Eventually, Riddle replied, "We will travel by Portkey."

Lupin took that as his cue and signalled for his men to get closer. Out of nowhere, six werewolves stepped from the forest. They were all clothed in the typical combat uniform of the Corps. The usual blacks had been traded in for camo green. Their lower faces were covered by olive balaclavas, making them basically unrecognizable. Sirius was honestly glad Greyback had assigned them a whole fireteam. He never really said it, but he was immensely grateful to the old bastard.

Riddle remained to be oddly unimpressed by the werewolves' intimidating presence. Calmly, he picked up a fir cone from the forest floor. Sirius stiffened as Riddle pulled his wand. The dark wizard waved his wand over the cone, making it flash in a blue light. Then he offered the Portkey with the words,

"We should leave."

Sirius gritted his teeth. He did not like this one bit. It smelled like a trap. Moody gazed at Riddle suspiciously, now with both eyes. Swiftly, Sirius pulled a silvery necklace over his head. Its twin remained around his neck. He pushed the necklace into Moody's hands.

"Return to HQ," he said firmly. "Keep a watch on us, will you?"

Moody didn't look one bit happy with this turn of events. Still his gnarled fingers closed around the silver chain and he nodded sharply.

"Don't do anything stupid," were his parting words before he apparated away.

Sirius turned back to Riddle. Despite his doubts, he reached for the fir cone. Lupin and his men mirrored him. Riddle flicked his wand and Sirius felt the familiar hook behind his navel as the Portkey pulled him away. They reappeared, seconds later, at a rugged cliff side. Foaming angrily, waves clashed against the cliff. The sea was a cold grey colour, almost hidden behind a bank of fog. Sirius could immediately taste the salt on his tongue. He turned his head. There was nothing here. Only the angry sea in front of them and a dark forest behind them.

"Where is she?" Lupin angrily yelled over the thundering waves.

Riddle stood at the edge of the cliff. Wordlessly, he raised a hand and with his index finger pointed to the open see. Sirius gritted his teeth as ice-cold realization crashed into him. He couldn't breathe as he stared over the see.

"Azkaban..."

Lupin turned to him, barely able to hear over the wind. "What?"

Sirius cleared his throat and turned to his friend. "She's in Azkaban. That's why we couldn't locate her. The wards around Azkaban disable all tracking spells."

Lupin's eyes widened and trepidation flickered through them. "Damn it."

The werewolf's gaze was stuck on the ocean. Then he turned to his men. With a gesture, he ordered them to be on the lookout. Then Lupin stepped closer to Sirius, so they could talk without screaming themselves hoarse. Meanwhile, Riddle just stood on the cliff, empty eyes staring over the ocean, while cold salt water from the waves rained down on him.

"My men can conjure up a boat to cross over the sea. They're good. We'll get close without being noticed," Lupin told Sirius grimly "We'll keep open an escape corridor, but the team that's entering…" He swallowed nervously.

He didn't have to say it. Sirius knew it was a suicide mission. Their chances of success were shrivelling away. Panic bubbled up in the pit of his stomach. He'd escaped Azkaban once. The fortress was nearly impenetrable. Despite the fear wrenching at him, Sirius replied calmly,

"I'm going in. I have to take Riddle with me. Only he can find Hermione."

"I can't order any of my men to do this," Lupin replied. Then he decided harshly, "But I'll be with you."

Sirius looked at the fierce expression on his friend's face. They both knew there was a very high chance they wouldn't get out again. _No use wasting time to talk about it, then_ , Sirius thought wryly. He sent his friend a small smile. Lupin returned the gesture. Then he turned to his men to give them their orders.

†

Tom stared over the open sea. He could feel the bond stronger now. He was close. Soon, he'll be reunited with the Spell. His magic bristled over his skin, agitated, excited. He liked the feeling of the magic and the Spell. Powerful.

"Let's go," a voice interrupted his musings.

Tom turned around. Lupin and his men had conjured up a sleek black boat. It looked disgustingly Muggle, but Tom could feel the intricate web of magic spun around it, hiding it. He stepped on the boat, Black on his heels. The man's hateful eyes followed him suspiciously. Tom ignored him. One of the werewolves operated the vehicle and soon the boat raced over the sea, wind whipping around its occupants. The boat's rigid hull bumped over the waves at flank speed while the salty water pelted down on its inflatable sides. Tom didn't notice any of that. He could only feel the bond between him and the Spell. Over the whipping wind, he instructed the werewolf steering the boat. They were so close.

The coast had long since disappeared behind the fog as a dark mass appeared in front of them. A small barren island stuck out of the foaming ocean. There was nothing but harsh rugged stone, washed out by salty water. Tom's gaze wandered to the only structure on the island. Built from the black rock of the island, there stood a fortress. Its thick walls were corroded and roughened by the salty water. Tom's eyes narrowed slightly as he could feel magic humming in the air. There was a powerful ward spun around the fortress. More powerful than the wards around Hogwarts' castle. Tom's own magic bristled in reaction to the hum of the heavy ward. A sharp smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Soon. Soon he'd have the Spell.

†

Sirius felt like screaming as he saw Azkaban appearing from the angry ocean like a demon from hell. He'd sworn never to return to this place. He'd rather die. His cold fingers fisted around the fabric of his coat. He kept the storm of emotions bottled deep inside him and turned to Lupin.

"Let's anchor over there," he yelled over the waves and the wind.

He gestured at a huge boulder that would serve to hide their boat. Lupin nodded and passed the order on to his men. As they neared the island, Sirius threw a glance at Riddle. The man's face was still an unreadable mask. His eyes were fixed on Azkaban and shimmered with mad excitement. Sirius shuddered as he saw that insane look on Riddle's face. As they reached the island, he jumped off the boat to help the soldiers pulling it a bit on shore.

"What's your plan?" Lupin asked. "You're the expert here."

"It's the wards we have to worry about first," Sirius replied as the tied the rope around a heavy stone. "Then a ton of guards and the Dementors."

Lupin nodded, fierce look on his face. It was Riddle who replied though.

"I can rip an opening into the ward," the dark wizard said, voice eerily composed and ice cold. "temporarily."

Sirius knew that Azkaban's ward was one of the strongest in Britain. How would Riddle be able to disable it? He sneered at the man. It didn't matter. If Riddle couldn't do it, Sirius would slip by the wards using his animagus form. He might have to leave Lupin behind, but honestly maybe that was for the best. This way, his friend wouldn't get hurt.

Lupin stepped back to Sirius and said, "I ordered my men to keep a route open for us. From the border of the wards onward, we're on our own, though."

Sirius threw his friend a wry grin. "In and out, then. Should be easy, right?"

Lupin smirked back at him, showing his pointed teeth. "Piece of cake."

"Let's go." Sirius waved his wand, casting an invisibility charm on himself, before he started the trek towards the black fortress.

Two of the werewolves stayed with the boat. The others followed their captain as they trekked over rugged rock towards the fortress. As they neared the ward, one by one, the werewolves dropped back, ensuring their escape route. By the time Sirius reached the edge of the ward only Lupin and Riddle were with him. The heavy magic feeding into the ward was audible as a low hum now. Sirius couldn't get closer than maybe two metres until the magic got so strong it threatened to rip him apart. He turned to Riddle and said coldly,

"Let's see how good you really are."

Riddle completely ignored the jibe and pulled his wand. The pale white wand lay lightly in Riddle's hand as the wizard eyed the ward pensively. He stepped closer to the ward, close enough to touch. The heavy magic crackled over him but didn't manage to harm. Riddle raised his left hand and ran it gently over the ward like caressing a lover. A sneer travelled over Sirius' face. After a moment of doing nothing, Riddle finally raised his wand and suddenly an incredibly strong rush of magic rolled over Sirius. He could feel the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. Riddle's pale wand danced through the air, twisting and forming not only his own magic but pushing the ward's magic. It was slow to react, but then the ward sluggishly followed Riddle's lead. It twisted and twitched, humming in in even lower tone now. Riddle laid the tip of his wand directly on the ward. In a deliberately slow movement, he brought his wand down. Sirius couldn't help but be in awe as he felt the ward giving in. Soon there was an opening in the ward, large enough for them to pass. Riddle already slipped through. Instantly, Sirius could sense the opening closing again. He reacted quickly. Sirius grabbed Lupin by the arm and passed the ward, pulling his friend with him. The heavy magic managed to singe their clothes and skin at places. Riddle already continued his journey towards the fortress, not waiting for them.

"Nice of him to make sure we're alright," Lupin said, harsh sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Sirius threw a hateful look at Riddle's back. "He's scum. What did you expect?"

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

"What do you think you're achieving with this?"

Hermione's whole body hurt as she tried to raise her head. She blinked her eyes open, one crusted over with blood. Umbridge was back. The woman stood in the small cell and looked down at Hermione. The smile on her face was meant to be sweet but looked nothing but shark-like.

"Did you have enough?" Umbridge asked saccharinely.

The man that Hermione had come to know as her torturer stood beside her. Umbridge raised an eyebrow, as if chiding an unruly schoolgirl.

"Can't you see that this is pointless?" the woman said, shaking her head sadly. "Why make it so hard on yourself."

Hermione's head fell back to the stone floor. She swallowed dryly. A smirk curved her cracked lips and she replied, voice hoarse and rough from all the screaming,

"It really is pointless. I won't tell you anything. Just kill me."

Umbridge released a girlish laugh. "Killing you? No no, little Mudblood. I like you too much to let you die."

She gestured for the man. He stepped over to Hermione's prone body, grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her up. Hermione gasped. Shortly her sight blacked as pain shot through her whole body. The man brutally pushed Hermione on the metal chair. She breathed heavily, shoulders hunched forward. Umbridge sat down in the chair opposite from her, metal table in between them.

"I've already wasted a lot of time on you," Umbridge said, still that sickly sweet smile on her face. "I'm getting tired of this." She turned to the uniformed man. "Are you getting tired of this?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied politely.

Umbridge nodded contently and her gaze flipped back to Hermione. "I have an important meeting with the Minister in a little more than three hours. I'd like to bring him good news," Umbridge explained in a kind voice. "You know what? I'll give _you_ those three hours, little Mudblood. You have three hours to tell me where Sirius Black is. And if you do, I'll be merciful and let you die." Umbridge's smile sharpened into a smirk. Then she leaned closer and said, voice cutting through Hermione like a knife, "If you decide to keep your silence, I'll have this nice gentleman here burn your face away so no one could ever hope to recognize you. Then I'll have your tongue cut off and your ears and eyes stabbed." Hermione stiffened as she stared at the sadistic glint in Umbridge's eyes as the woman continued, "Once I've done that I'll sell you to the cheapest brothel I can find and make sure that you never leave that establishment ever again." In a whisper Umbridge added, "But don't worry. I'll have you looked after. I'll make sure that you live a long, long life."

Abruptly, Umbridge leaned away again. Hermione sat on her chair, petrified with fear, and stared at the woman with wide eyes. Panic clouded her mind and her hands balled into tight fists. Umbridge once again smiled her sweet smile. She clapped in her hands, happy look on her face,

"Good. Now that that's cleared up." She threw a look at the uniformed man. "I have to prepare my meeting with the Minister. But I'll be back in three hours."

The man nodded, face a blank mask as usual. Umbridge got up from her chair and straightened down her pink blouse. Then she turned around to leave. Before she reached the door, Hermione's broken voice held her back,

"Wait."

Umbridge turned around, already a triumphant smirk curled her lips. "Yes?"

Hermione looked at the woman. She couldn't think straight. Fear curled around her chest mercilessly, constricting so Hermione could barely breathe.

"I…"

"What is it, dear?" Umbridge asked innocently.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. _Tell her!_ A voice yelled at her. _Just tell her!_ All of this would be over. The pain, gone. Hermione opened her eyes and looked down at her hands on the metal table. They were dirty, caked over with blood, and some nails were ripped out. Tears flowed over and ran down her cheeks. This was hopeless.

Hermione gritted her teeth. The fear was still there, sharp and cruel. Her hands balled into fists, sending pain shooting up her arms. Hermione ripped through her fear. Her eyes burned and her teeth were revealed in an angry snarl as she spat,

"I'll never tell you anything!"

With that, Hermione raised her arm, two fingers extended, and slashed it through the air. Desperation, fear and anger were the wild mixture that fuelled her magic. It formed into a crude spell and raced towards Umbridge. The woman was too surprised to defend herself. Hermione's magic crashed into her and hurled her into the wall behind her. A deep cut appeared across Umbridge's face and the woman howled in pain. Blood flowed down her skin, soaking into her blouse in a sharp red contrast to the pink.

The uniformed man reacted instantly. He pulled his wand and waved it at Hermione. She could feel something impact brutally with her. A yell left her as she was flung away. She crashed hard into the stone floor and pain shot through her whole body. Weakly Hermione lay there. She couldn't move at all, her magic drained and her body broken. She looked up through glassy eyes. She saw the uniformed man hastening to help Umbridge up. One hand was holding her face, blood seeping through her fingers, as Umbridge glared at her hatefully. Hermione's sight blurred.

"You've made your decision," Umbridge hissed venomously.

The uniformed man supported her as he led her out the cell. The metal door fell shut and locked. Hermione's sight turned dark and she finally blacked out.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Azkaban was designed like a maze. Each dark corridor looked the same. Everywhere, the same metal doors greeted the passer-by, identical locks barricaded the way. Sirius didn't know how he'd survived the years locked up here. Crouching low, he snuck down yet another dark, cold corridor. Riddle was right behind him while Lupin brought up the rear.

"We have to get to the lower levels," Riddle's icy voice whispered once again.

"I know," Sirius replied tersely. "I'm trying to, okay?"

Indeed, he really was. The problem was avoiding all the guards, though. They had spun concealment charms around them, but Sirius knew that wasn't enough. He pressed his back into the cold wall and peered around the next corner. Steps echoed as a guard passed by some metres ahead. Riddle's icy blue eyes followed the man.

"I could simply get rid of him," he offered in a disturbingly calm tone.

Sirius shook his head and whispered back, "No. Someone'll notice."

Riddle's willingness to kill was disgusting to say the least. Sirius tried not to think about it. The guard had passed by and they continued. It was just a few metres and they slipped through a door to the staircase. Sirius peered down. Climbing even deeper into the bowels of Azkaban was a decidedly bad idea. Lupin seemed to share his thought. Under his breath, the werewolf asked Riddle,

"Are you sure Hermione is in the lower levels?"

Riddle was frustratingly unimpressed by Azkaban's grim atmosphere and inclined his head smartly. Lupin sent a significant look at Sirius and slightly nodded his head. Once again, Sirius took the lead and they slowly climbed down the stairs. He felt like being buried alive. The air turned colder and colder the deeper they got. Panic constricted around Sirius' chest and he swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.

The stairs led them to another level. The same dark corridors greeted them. Sirius again took the lead and snuck down the corridor. Riddle followed him. The wizard's cold eyes searched around for something Sirius apparently couldn't see. They had crossed another corridor as suddenly Sirius felt a wall of coldness hitting him. It took away his breath. His eyes widened and fear shot through him. Down the corridor there was a dark mass. The darkness seemed to waft around, moving like a living being. _Dementors_. The corridor was full of them. He'd never seen so many. Sirius' fingers tightened around his wand nervously.

"We need to go back," he whispered to the others, panic lacing his tone.

It was too late. One dark shadow broke free from the mass and floated into their direction. Sirius' heart stopped as he felt the temperature drop drastically. He stiffened as suddenly Riddle passed him. Sirius stared at the dark wizard in disbelief as he walked _towards_ the Dementor.

"What…?" Lupin hissed under his breath.

Riddle just stood there in the middle of the corridor. By now the Dementor had reached him and hovered right in front of him, close enough to touch. Sirius had no idea how the wizard managed to keep standing. The Dementor leaned in closer. Even from where he was pressed against the corridor wall a few metres away, Sirius could hear the sucking sound coming from the Dementor. Riddle didn't even so much as flinch. Instead, his empty eyes wandered over the Dementor, a curious glint in them. For a moment, the Dementor didn't move and Sirius was convinced he'd start to suck the soul right out of Riddle any second now. Sirius already planned to use that distraction to hurry away. Then, the Dementor abruptly pulled away. It circled Riddle one time as if needing to observe him from all sides. Then it lost interest in the dark wizard and floated back to the other Dementors. Sirius released a long breath of air. His relief was short-lived, though.

"Halt! Who are you?" a voice suddenly echoed through the corridor.

Lupin cursed colourfully under his breath and Sirius was inclined to join him. His head whipped around. One of the guards had walked up on them. Sirius gritted his teeth. They'd been too focused on the Dementors. Lupin threw a curse at the guard. The man lunged out of the way and the curse harmlessly crashed into the corridor wall. The guard pulled a tiny blue crystal from his robe. Sirius sent another curse at the man, but it was already too late. The guard activated the crystal. The lights around them flickered. Then some alarm blared off loudly, alerting everyone in the fortress.

"Damn it!" Lupin hissed furiously.

Sirius jumped up from his crouched position on the floor. Riddle re-joined them.

"This way," he hissed at them furiously.

He led them straight towards the mass of Dementors. Sirius didn't know what made him follow the crazy dark wizard. Probably the desperation ripping at him. As they reached them, though, the Dementors scattered and let them pass undisturbed. Sirius didn't have time to ponder that. They sprinted down the corridor and around the next corner. The alarm still blared shrilly and Sirius could feel the adrenaline rushing through his system. He gasped as suddenly a curse rammed into the wall right beside him. Stones rained down on them. Lupin reacted quickly and spanned a shield over them. Another curse brutally crashed into it, taking it down.

"Shit!" Sirius cursed.

He grabbed Lupin by the arm, pulling him behind one of the stone braces, reinforcing the walls. More curses pelted down on them, now impacting with the stone brace. Sirius dared sticking out his head and peering down the corridor. Almost, a curse slid it right off his neck. He pulled back.

"Guards," he told Lupin breathlessly. "A shit-ton."

"We need to get out of here," Lupin hissed under his breath as he flattened himself against the wall.

The brace already started to crumble under the attack. Over the loud noise of the curses impacting with the stone, Riddle snapped,

"We need to go down another level."

Sirius snarled at him, "We're lucky we don't go down period."

Lupin already swirled his wand, throwing curses in the guards' direction. Sirius joined him. He smiled grimly as he could see one of his curses hitting a guard. The man painfully grasped his arm, his wand falling from his hand. The wounded guard was instantly replaced by two new ones. Sirius had to take cover as their counter attack hurtled towards him. He gritted his teeth. They were too many. Too many.

"Watch out!"

Lupin's warning came a split second too late. Sirius gasped in pain as a curse cut into him. His hand flew too his side, only to find it drenched in blood. Panic threatened to override him as he spotted more guards, this time attacking from the other side of the corridor. They were surrounded. Lupin swirled his wand, erecting a strong shield.

"They've got us crammed in," the werewolf growled.

Sirius pressed a hand against his side, ignoring the sick feeling of blood seeping through his fingers. His other hand still held his wand tightly. The guards were attacking from both sides now and they were stuck in the middle. Baring his teeth in an angry snarl, Sirius brandished his wand, attacking again.

.

The men still attacked. Tom watched Sirius Black and the werewolf returning curses. Black brandished his wand in a well-practiced manner, the movement resulting in powerful curses. Yet his attacks were futile. There just were too many guards. It was a matter of time. Black and Lupin would tire. They would lose. Tom's fingers gently held his pale wand, the wood's surface smooth under his touch. The guards still attacked. There was anger boiling up in Tom, seething hot it flooded him and burned everything in its way. He didn't have time for this. He needed to get to the Spell. He needed to get rid of this confusing mist in his head. He needed to…

Tom breathed in deeply. There were still parts slipping away from him. Even now. It just broke away from him. And he _needed_ the Spell. He couldn't think. Tom glanced at Black and the werewolf. _Useless_. He gritted his teeth. Why did he allow them to join his quest? He couldn't remember. Did he even have a plan? Tom's gaze flickered back to the guards. They flooded towards him, barely hindered by Black and Lupin. How dare they stand in his way? How… dare they? Tom's wand slipped from his fingers and both hands fisted into his own hair. He sagged to the floor, knees hitting the stone, and he tugged at his hair. He just couldn't… He needed the Spell. The Nothingness would get him. He needed the Spell to break it. Or he would disappear.

Tom opened his eyes and stared down at his pale wand. It lay on the stone floor, calling him. His fingers slowly let go of his hair. Who could ever stop him? _Him_? Tom reached for his wand. His fingers lovingly closed around it and his magic flowed into the piece of wood. Tom still stared at the wand in his hand and he felt his lips curve upwards into a smirk. Did they truly think they'd ever be able to stop _him_? A cold laugh fell from him. Somehow Black must have heard it, because he cast a glance at him, frowning. Tom didn't pay the man any mind. His thoughts burned with one desire only and he wasn't going to hold back anymore.

Parts and pieces might crumble from him, but Tom's magic was as powerful as ever. Always, it had been there. Now that his mind was falling into the Nothingness, he finally saw it, his magic. He had tamed it. So long ago, he had locked it up. First the psychiatric clinic and then Hogwarts had demanded he hid it. His magic had been clipped, so no one would see, no one would know.

Tom's fingers tightened around his wand and he got up from the floor. The Spell would need all his magic. There was no need to hold back. No need to conceal the true nature of his magic anymore. The smirk still hung from Tom's lips. Finally, every lock and barrier he had erected to keep his magic controlled fell. It was bristling over his skin, roiling the air around him. Tom felt ecstatic as he finally, after all these years, could just let it run wild. It was bliss.

.

An especially brutal curse collided with the wall, sending stone splinters all over Sirius. Their cover was long since gone, crumped into a pile of dust. Driven by adrenaline, Sirius' heart hammered away in her chest. His wand already felt warm from all the curses that had rushed through it. He raised a shield, warding off an attack. Swiftly, he fired a curse of his own. He managed to hit one of the guards, but they still pressed on.

Sirius glanced over to Riddle. He crouched on the floor, only a few steps from Sirius. A frown formed on his face as he spotted an eerie smirk on Riddle's face. Why wasn't he helping? Anger rushed through Sirius. Was Riddle just going to watch? Of course, the Slytherin wouldn't risk anything important for Hermione. With renewed force, Sirius hurled more curses at the guards. A grim smile appeared on his face as he hit one man in the chest. Still, the ball of panic that had formed in the pit of his stomach didn't diminish. More and more guards reinforced their already overwhelming number. Sirius stood back to back with Lupin. He was glad it was him. The werewolf attacked fiercely. Yet Sirius could see it was futile. There were simply too many guards.

Suddenly, Sirius was hit by a strong wave of magic. It pushed him into the stone wall. His head whipped around. Eyes wide, he realized the magic came from Riddle. By now the dark wizard had stood up from his crouched position. The smirk from earlier still twisted his lips. Sirius swallowed nervously as he felt the dark wizard's powerful magic storming around him. It already painfully tugged at Sirius and left a strange taste in his mouth that reminded him strongly of blood and brimstone. In stunned silence, Sirius watched Riddle's normally blue eyes turn red like embers, giving him a demonic appearance.

"What the fuck?" he heard Lupin's raspy voice.

There was a moment that Riddle's magic washed over the whole corridor, filing it up. After a moment of shock, the guards gathered their wits and again attacked. Riddle didn't seem to care at all. He didn't even try raising a shield. The curses pelted down on him, but his thick magic in the air seemed to simply absorb them. Riddle advanced towards the door to the staircase, not paying the guards any mind. The guards now focused their attacks on Riddle, but none of their curses could reach him. Even from this distance, Sirius could feel Riddle's dark magic rushing towards his wand. Almost, Sirius opened his mouth and yelled a warning to the guards as Riddle raised his wand. He waved it and there was no flourish to the sheer force behind his curse. It wasn't even a real curse, but simply Dark Magic solidified. Like a blade it ripped through the air. It rammed into the guards, sending them flying, blood spraying everywhere. One guard raised a shield but it was breached instantly. There was a look of shock on the man's face as Riddle's magic cut into his body, neatly separating his left arm and half his torso from the rest of his body. The guard was dead even before his body hit the ground. Riddle continued his way towards the door. One of the guards managed to get closer and attacked. Riddle didn't turn to him. As if in an afterthought he lazily flicked his wand at the man. The guard tensed, his wand slipping from his fingers, eyes wide. Then his mouth opened and a bloodcurdling scream tore from him. His skin turned red before suddenly blisters appeared everywhere. Sirius swallowed dryly as the process continued and the man's skin simply _melted_. The horrible screams continued as the skin dripped from the body like molten wax. Sirius felt sick as he saw the red muscle tissue underneath. The man had by now turned into a twitching, screaming anatomy model, contorting in agony on the floor. Bile rose in Sirius' throat. Riddle didn't pay the man's horrible death any attention, but continued. Sirius shuddered as he spotted the smile ghosting around Riddle's lips. Again, his pale wand danced through the air and more guards fell, never to get up again. To Sirius the merciless wizard looked like death himself, wielding his scythe. Terrible and strangely captivating. Another guard found a grizzly end as Riddle's magic cut into him, ripping his torso open. His blood joining the others' on the floor. Riddle gracefully stepped over the fallen bodies, blood sticking to his shoes. Sirius was horrified by this wizard, this monster, and still couldn't look away from him. He realized that it wasn't a malicious smirk adorning Riddle's face as he mercilessly killed those men. It was an open smile, happy somehow. Riddle looked blissful.

As he reached to door to the staircase, the door's metal bent outward, like hit by a large force. It was ripped from its hinges just in time for Riddle to step through. The wizard disappeared into the staircase.

"Sirius!" he was ripped from his stunned state.

Turning around, Sirius was met with Lupin's yellow eyes. The werewolf packed him by the arm, shaking him slightly.

"We need to retreat," the man yelled.

Sirius shook his head, trying to get himself back under control. "But Hermione is still here."

Lupin gritted his teeth. Despite the bloodbath Riddle had left behind, more guards flooded the corridor.

"We'll never make it past them," Lupin replied, voice controlled, and gestured at the advancing guards. "There're too many."

Sirius stared at them. His side still throbbed painfully and he could barely stand. "She _needs_ us," he told Lupin, desperation leaking from his tone.

"I know," Lupin snarled, furiously glaring at the guards. "I know…"

Sirius felt Lupin's fingers painfully tightening around his arm. A feral growl left the werewolf. Then his gaze snapped back to Sirius and by now his fingers trembled.

"We can't help her," Lupin hissed through gritted teeth. "If we try, we'll die. We have to retreat."

Sirius felt his eyes burning and he shook his head, trying to ignore the truth glaring at him. Lupin's sharp teeth were bared into a furious snarl as he glared at the guards but Sirius could also see the pain etched in his eyes. He was right. Damn, Lupin was right. Sirius released a furious snarl. They were lucky if they made it out alive. There was nothing he could do. Sharply, Sirius decided,

"We retreat."

The werewolf nodded and Sirius could see the pain in the other's eyes.

"Maybe Riddle can find her," Lupin hissed through gritted teeth.

"We can only hope," Sirius muttered under his breath.

He clutched his bleeding side as they retreated down the corridor. The guards' curses following them.

†

Tom's magic crackled around him. It was everywhere. He _was_ the magic. It was exhilarating. A wild smile twisted his lips. There were more of those guards trying to stop him. Tom's magic ripped into them. He could feel their flesh and bone break under his force. He drank up their pain as if it were the sweetest wine. He saw the terror in one of the men's eyes. A cold laugh fell from Tom's lips. So sweet. He flicked his wand and the man turned into pain. His blood splattered on the floor and stuck to Tom's cloak.

The Spell was close. He could tell. It was here. Excitement rushed through Tom. His wand again slashed through the air and more men fell. The Nothingness… the Nothingness would stop torturing him soon. He stepped over the corpses. They were still warm and Tom enjoyed the sticky feeling of their blood under his boots.

Another corridor, more blood, and then he reached it. A metal door that looked like all the others. For Tom, though, it glowed with inviting magic. Tom's own magic wrapped around him tightly, suddenly agitated. The Spell's magic seeped through the cracks and beckoned him closer. Tom stopped in front of the door. It was ridiculous how nervous he suddenly felt. He could feel his heart beating incredibly fast in his chest. Hermione would probably laugh at him and insist that he didn't even have a heart.

_Hermione_. _Who was…?_ Tom frowned. His powerful Spell. Yes, that was the reason he was here. Tom tentatively raised his hand to open the door. He was feeling sick. Dizzy. But the void had backed off a little. The Nothingness slowly released him. He could think straight again. Was that because… _Hermione_ was right behind that door? Tom swallowed as the nervousness rushed back to him. He needed to find that Spell, person, Hermione.

The metal door creaked softly as Tom opened it. For once, the sound was not muffled by the Nothingness, but clear. He liked it. It must be Hermione's doing. His stomach was knotted as Tom entered the room. It wasn't a room. It was a cell. Sterile white walls and stainless steel. Bright. He hated it. An artificial light illuminated everything harshly, leaving no place for darkness. Reluctantly, Tom stepped into the white room. Something hung in the air, heavy. Metallic. Blood. It made him tense.

This time, Tom could see everything clearly because the Spell's, Hermione's, nearness had driven away the Nothingness. No blurry vision. Not for now. Only light, soothingly clear, smell and touch. Tom blinked, unused to such clarity. He was grateful that his body worked again. To make it last, he needed to find the Sp- Hermione was _not_ a spell. Tom ran a shaky hand over his face. He needed to concentrate. He couldn't drift off again.

In one corner of the cell, like a foreign object in all the sterile cleanliness, Tom saw a body. Someone was lying there. Quickly he rushed over to the person. He stood stock-still as he stared down at her. She lay motionless, her head turned to the side and her face hidden behind curly hair. Tom could barely breathe as he recognized that curly frizzy hair. It was _her_. It really was. He had found her. Relief washed over him, but also fear. Fear because she was not moving at all.

Slowly Tom crouched down beside her. Her body was clothed in a ragged and torn grey chemise. It barely covered anything. The pale skin of her slender long legs was exposed and Tom gritted his teeth as he saw the blood soiling her skin. Cuts and purple marks covered her legs and arms and were a sharp contrast to the paleness of her skin. Anger was boiling up in Tom. For so long he had felt nothing. Now there was worry and insatiable fury almost strangling him. He crouched down beside her and raised a hand to gently wipe the curly hair from her face.

_Hermione._

How stupid of him. He had thought she was a spell? An incantation? She was so much more. Tom's eyes greedily wandered over her features, taking her in like a starving man. If only her beautiful face hadn't been disturbed by dark bruises and blood. So much blood. Another painful jab of worry hit him hard. He barely dared to breathe as his hand wandered to her neck. His fingers gingerly skimmed over her soft skin. Then he could feel it. A steady pulse beat under the tips of his fingers.

A breath of air left Tom. Hermione was hurt, but still alive. Carefully he scooped her unconscious body in his arms. Then he lifted her. She still didn't wake. Her head fell against his chest and rested there. Tom pressed her even tighter against him. Now that he touched her, the Nothingness released him completely. Just as if a curse had been broken, his thoughts were no longer hazy. The pain was gone. He stopped to dissipate and shift. Tom bent his head down to Hermione and buried his face in her curly hair. It felt so soft against his skin and smelled wonderful.

"Hermione," he sighed contently.

He let his magic wrap around them both. Then he swirled his wand. Azkaban's wards cracked loudly as Tom cut through them and apparated away.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

' **Were he as fair once, as he now is foul,**

**And lifted up his brow against his Maker,**

**Well may proceed from him all tribulation.**

**O, what a marvel it appeared to me,**

**When I beheld three faces on his head!'**

**\- Dante Alighieri**

**(* 1265 † 1321)**


End file.
